


Texts From Last Night (or I was Drunk and Stupid)

by AshitaNewssnoopy



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Being Boys, Drabble Collection, Drunkenness, Ensemble Cast, F/F, F/M, Implied Fem Slash (one drabble), Implied Threesome (one drabble), Max and Maria friendly, Pranks and Practical Jokes, crackish humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshitaNewssnoopy/pseuds/AshitaNewssnoopy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles based on the ever hilarious Texts From Last Night website. Features an all UC cast, which includes Polar, Incrowder and Fifth Wheeler. Max and Maria friendly for the most part. There will be some general mocking of all characters given the nature of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that all characters are at or above the legal age to drink alcohol, which is 21 in the United States; the author in no way condones under age drinking, nor is she responsible for the idiots that take this as a sign of glamorizing it or decide to attempt any of these things at home. You are responsible for your own actions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets a...well, an interesting wake up call...

****

The Morning After

Michael groaned, his head spinning and pain stabbing in the back of his eyes, mouth dry as cotton as he pressed his face into his pillow. The annoying tinny chirp of his phone filled his ear, just adding to the throb radiating through his head. He cursed under his breath, blindly groping at his bedside table, tempted to blast the offending object to smithereens just to get it to stop. Damn Max. If that was him calling, he was going to fry his sappy, ‘I’m an anal retentive, happy morning person’ ass because it was _all his fault_ that he was feeling this way.

Fumbling with the little black phone that his Nazi sister had enforced on him, and that his family seemed to love tormenting him with at obscene hours of the morning, he groaned when the device scuttled out of his grasping fingers and clattered to the floor with a loud bang. Or at least loud to someone nursing an alien hangover. Screw blasting Max; that was too quick and painless a death for the torture his brother had inflicted on him. 

“Fuck,” he muttered , dropping his hand back to the bed and wincing as speaking aloud made a wave of pain wash through his head once again, and then flopped onto his back, moaning when his stomach rolled sickly, the burn of acid coating the back of his throat as he fought the urge to get sick. Oh, yes, someone was going to pay dearly for this. Gingerly raising his hand to his head, he grit his teeth and concentrated, sending a little flood of healing power through it, and sighed as the pinching stopped. 

Thank Christ. 

Lowering his hand, confusion filled him, and his brow furrowed when he encountered a warm lump that shouldn’t be there. What the hell?

Cautiously turning his head to the side, Michael studied the cascade of tangled molasses locks spilling over a smooth, golden back in bewilderment, his the brother’s words from the night before coming back to haunt him as rolled onto his side and faced his companion, his eyes sliding over the petite form appreciatively. Damn, now he had another reason to kill Max, as he couldn’t remember a damned thing about last night and judging by his and her lack of dress, it had been one hell of a night.

Shifting closer to the girl, he moved as slowly as possible, frantically searched his mind for the few hazy details he had been able to piece together from the previous evening, and attempted to recall if a brunette had been present at their impromptu party, failing horrifically. The only brunette he remembered was Liz, who, granted, had looked incredibly hot with her soft, sexy waves, tight jeans and tiny tank top as she danced with Tess and Isabel, and he had briefly considered, but…

Oh, hell. No way. He didn’t. He couldn’t have, could he?

Holding his breath, he leaned over, grunting when his chest grazed against silken skin and he peered into her face, frowning when he couldn’t make out the woman’s features as tousled, silky waves shielded her from view. Reaching over carefully, he slid a finger under the thick, heavy mass; the silky texture was oddly familiar and brought with it a flash of memory of him gripping it tightly between his fingers as he crushed soft, pink lips to his. The visual hit him with the impact of a sledge hammer, sucking the air from his lungs and seared his blood with desire.

Well, that answered one question; now for the other.

Gasping, both at the lust raging through his body, and her unveiling, he stared down into Liz’s serene face, her lips rosy and passion-bruised, and groaned deeply. This was a nightmare. How the hell was he going to explain this to Max? Not that he deserved one after his stunt last night, but seriously, he hated when his pseudo brother got his panties in a twist. He ended up sulking for days and tormented all and sundry with that damned Counting Crows CD.

Heart hammering against his chest, Michael continued to stare at the beauty before him, shocked, and oddly elated, when she burrowed into his body, seeking heat and eliciting the typical reaction a man could expect when naked in bed with a gorgeous girl – his body heated, perking up with an interest that he had shunted aside long ago. Lust drunk, he inhaled and shivered as the scent of vanilla and strawberries teased his nose. She always did smell incredible, and he had always wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled.

And Damn Max to the deepest hell for spiking his drink so he couldn’t even remember that.

Unable to resist, he dragged his fingers over her arm softly, swallowing thickly when she seemed to purr in the back of her throat, the little noise doing things to him inside that he couldn’t even explain and he bit back another grunt as she shifted into him further. Lids falling half-mast, he toyed with the edge of the sheet, curiosity getting the best of him and he began to drag it from her form, freezing, desire rippling through his body when she sighed and murmured huskily. “Michael…”

Sucker punched, he licked his lips and stared down at her, electricity dancing over his nerves as her body brushed against his again, disappointed when she pulled away and turned over onto her back, giving him a clear view of her face and soft, barely covered golden swells. Eyes riveted on that tender skin, he leaned over, intending to find out if his vague memories and fantasies lived up to the reality when his phone twittered at him again making him growl impatiently. Oh yeah, Max was so going to pay for this.

Rolling over, he leaned out of the bed and impatiently swiped at his phone, his eyes still riveted on the woman in his bed, and he licked his lips appreciatively as the movement had dragged the sheet lower, revealing more of those mocha swells. Groaning as unadulterated lust flooded his system, Michael turned back to the phone with a grunt, amazed that his companion continued to sleep on despite the noise.

His royal pain in the ass had better have a damned good reason for texting him this early.

Pushing the appropriate buttons, he snorted and groaned at the same time as the message from Max flashed onto his screen, scratching at his brow as he tried to figure out the best way to answer this question.

_Woke up alone. You?_

Staring at what should have been an innocuous question, even one that lead to good-natured ribbing and perhaps some mocking of his brother’s lack of social skills, he winced. Instead it had suddenly become a landmine given the identity of the woman lying next to him; because while Max and Liz had been over for years, Max had never quite gotten over the fact that she wasn’t interested in continuing their angst-ridden high school romance. 

Hitting a few buttons, he briefly considered lying, but then if he and Liz turned out to be more than a one-night mistake, things could get sticky later, so he went for a generalized truth, hoping his brother would drop it. 

_Uh…no._

He should have realized his life would never be that easy as his phone jingled annoyingly, almost immediately after he had sent it, Max’s name flashing on the screen. Rolling his eyes at his brother’s continued conversation, he had to wonder how long it had been since Max had gotten laid, because obviously he hadn’t figured out that the last thing a man wanted was to get repeated texts when he had a woman in his bed. Sighing, he looked at Liz and seeing she was still sleeping, figured he might as well read it.

_Of course not, what was I thinking? Good?_

Good? What the fuck? Did he want him to rate it? How did one say, _‘well here’s the deal asshole; I can’t remember because some interfering bastard spiked my drink last night, so I don’t recall fucking your ex-girlfriend, but let me wake her up and ask.’_ Yeah, that’d go over well. The last thing he needed was Max to barrel into his apartment, screaming like a whiny, little girl and find him fucking Liz in truth. 

_Yes?_

Scrubbing his hand over is face, he stared at the phone just waiting for the comment that was going to bring because he just knew that Max would be insanely curious after his vague answers. And sure enough, the phone vibrated in his hand with a message from Chatty Cathy.

_You sound uncertain…hag?_

Hag? Not even close, Maxwell. Looking over at Liz, he slid another appreciative gaze over her body, reaching over. Tugging the sheet lower to reveal more of that golden skin, he momentarily forgot his friend and stared his fill, her body compact and toned, yet gently curved in all the right places. Who knew that she’d been hiding that body under all that modest clothing? Had he known that, he would have done something a hell of a lot sooner. Turning back to his phone he smirked. Time to have fun.

_No…she’s gorgeous, just not who I was expecting_

Pulling himself over to the brunette, he hovered over her, his heart beating wildly as he dragged his fingers softly over her collarbone, his breath hitching as a vision of her leaning over him flashed before his eyes, her hair a wild tumble down her back as soft skin slid over his. Flicking covetous irises over her, he leaned over, brushing his lips over her cheek as he pressed his nose to her temple and inhaled, groaning when his phone chattered insistently. Seriously…what part of woman in his bed did Max not get?

_Who is it? The blonde?_

Frowning at the question, he thought back onto the night before, his lips twisting in disgust as he tried to recall who Max might be referring to, and hoped like hell he didn’t mean either Tess or Isabel because that was just disgusting. To hell with it. He totally deserved this. Maybe this will shut Max up long enough for Michael to enjoy this twist of fate.

_Liz._

Tossing the phone on his pillow, he snickered and let his pseudo brother chew on that answer for a while, smirking as he imagined Max’s horrified expression. Turning back to Liz, he knew he had a few moments before Max scraped his jaw off the floor after that comment; so he might as well enjoy the view. Lowering his body next to hers, he inhaled sharply as she curled back up against him, and rested her head on his chest, tangling one leg with his, as he tried to figure out how the hell they’d ended up here.

Smoothing a hand over the curve of her back, his head swam, yet more visions filling his mind; watching her and Tess grind together, his blood burning with jealousy as some random guy came up to her and pressed himself into her back, sandwiching her between him and the blond; him getting out of his chair, dragging Liz away into the hall; her pushing back at him, glaring at him fiercely and him pushing her against the wall as their lips crashed together, her body pinned tightly to his.

Drawing a breath as the images continued to wash over him, his breath staggered as she shoved him away, striding off with snarky words about not being his play toy; him storming after her and grabbing her around the waist; and then slinging her over his shoulder as he walked the two blocks to his house, shoving her through the door and stalking her as she swallowed thickly, unwittingly backing herself into a corner.

Pulling away as his phone chimed, breaking through the connection, he panted and stared at her with wide eyes and shook his head to clear it, a little uncertain if whether, despite her actions, she even wanted to be there after all. At least he now knew how they got there.

The phone tinkled again, drawing his eyes from the sleeping brunette and he picked up the phone impatiently, getting tired of Max’s interference just when he seemed to be getting the answers he wanted. Quickly reading his message, he rolled his eyes and fired off another of his own.

_What?_

_You realize that if you hadn't spiked my drink while you mouthed "we're getting laid tonight," I wouldn't have woken up with your ex this morning. Just sayin’_

Tossing it aside once more, he studied her pretty upturned face thoughtfully, wondering if he dared touch her again, a little worried if he’d get more flashes if he did. Scratching his brow agitatedly, he shrugged, only one way to find out.

Hesitantly he reached out a shaky hand and placed it tentatively on her arm, and stroking her skin absently, marveling at how silky it felt under his fingers; he didn’t think he had ever felt anything so fine. And once again he was overwhelmed by visions of them arguing, her words dripping with acid at first as she ticked off his supposed transgressions before being forced to swallow her words when he proved without a doubt that little bitch Pam was a lying skank; and no he _didn’t, wouldn’t_ touch _that_ with a ten-foot pole.

And Liz had stood there, silently assessing him, startled that he had managed to get so close during their argument. And then their lips met and meshed and burned against each other, igniting his very soul; words of attraction and love spilled between them, falling droplets of precious rain on a hot desert night. And then…

The annoying chirp of the phone filled his ears, making him growl in frustration as it yet again cut through his visions. Fucking Max. He’d always had piss poor timing.

_I can’t believe you._

Max couldn’t believe _him_? Honestly, he was the asshole who had gotten _him_ drunk, not the other way around. If Max wanted to blame something or someone, he need look no further than the ‘happy juice’ he slipped into Michael’s drink last night.

Glowering at the offending object, he gave one, small, evil smirk before sending his next message, just knowing that it would send the other man into an apoplectic fit. Served the runt right after ensuring Michael’s hangover and his subsequent bout of amnesia of what he was sure had been the best night of his life.

_Sorry dude. You lost her; I’m keeping her._

Snickering as he sent that note off, he startled when the brunette beauty finally stirred, a low sigh falling over her lips as she nuzzled his chest with a tiny purr, seeking warm skin on this cold morning. Smiling as she whispered his name again, he quickly sent off a last text before powering the phone down; he may not remember much about last night, but he sure as hell was perfectly sober now and he had no intentions of letting this opportunity slip away. They had all day to explore those intriguing flashes of memory.

_Love to chat, but Sleeping Beauty has awoken and there is something I'm desperately curious about. Later Max._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original text for The Morning After is - _"You realize that if you hadn't spiked my drink while you mouthed "we're getting laid tonight", I wouldn't have woken up with your ex this morning. Just sayin'."_


	2. The Mayo Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a few and things go...awry...

****

The Mayo Incident

Liz blankly stared at her textbook, rubbing her eyes and sighing wearily as the words began to blur before them; she had been at this for what felt like hours and she knew that there were several more hours of work and study ahead until she felt she knew the material for her coming exam on Friday. If she ever got there. 

Running a rueful hand through her hair, she sat back into the hard plastic chair, shifting uncomfortably as she closed her eyes and tried to get…well, comfortable. She was thankful for the silence that wrapped around her, soothing her jangled nerves, especially after being bombarded with noisy, excitable men when Michael and his cohorts had crashed into their house, bringing loud voices and the exuberance of some sports game that had been won and just needed to be celebrated with them.

She hadn’t even bothered to find out just what had them all atwitter as she scooped up her books and notes, and absently kissing Michael’s distracted cheek, hightailed it out of the house. There was no way she was going to get any studying done in that melee. That had been two hours ago, and while she cringed at the thought of what trouble the boys might get up to when unsupervised, she was glad that she’d switched venues as she had accomplished a lot.

Opening her eyes, she leaned back over her books, determined to get through at least two more chapters that night, but was distracted from her task when her phone chirped beside her. Smiling when Michael’s name popped up on the screen, she picked the phone up and pushed a few buttons to pull up the waiting text. She had wondered when her fiancé would finally notice that she was MIA, as she was certain it hadn’t even registered that she’d walked out the front door and not into their bedroom earlier. Flicking her eyes over the small screen, she smirked as she read the message.

_So ummm…question._

_Answer._

She couldn’t resist quipping back sarcastically, grinning as she sent that note to her waiting fiancé, imaging his exasperated snort that she had stolen his typical smart ass remark. He had lobbed that response at her often enough that she found it fitting that he was now on the other side of a bit of teasing. After the other day, he deserved it. Smirking when the little phone cheeped impatiently, likely mimicking the irritated alien on the other side, she read his response with a little laugh.

_Ha. Ha. I’m being serious._

Liz briefly considered twitting him further by feigning innocence, and then continuing in the same vein, but she had a mountain of work facing her before she could find her bed, so she chuckled and typed another message instead.

_Sorry. What’s up?_

Liz shifted in her seat, waiting for an answer. And waited some more. And then waited some more. But the phone remained silent, the lack of a response slowly upping her anxiety with each passing second as the dead air drew out. She was close to cramming her notes and books into her bag and rushing home to make sure they hadn’t managed to kill themselves this time, when another text came through. 

The suddenness of the noise buzzing through her chaotic thoughts elicited a small squeak of surprise and Liz flushed at her reaction, glancing at the nearby tables with a sheepish grin when heads turned her way. Smiling a silent apology to the patrons surrounding her, Liz turned her attention to her phone; and then froze, her eyes popping and brows shooting into her hairline as she stared at the cell incredulously.

_So… how do you get mayonnaise out of... well, Jesus, it's everywhere; let's start with carpets._

Liz continued to stare at the message, utterly dumbfounded for a full minute, her mouth opening and closing several times as her befuddled mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Finally tearing her eyes away from the silent device, she flicked her eyes around the quiet room, trying to come up with an adequate answer for why and how Michael had managed to get mayonnaise on everything… and drew a blank.

Shaking her head slowly, she turned back to the phone, a part of her certain that she had imagined the words; but no, there it was, forever immortalized in technology; he had indeed sent it. Startling when a hysterical giggle bubbled over her lips, Liz firmed her shoulders and began to furiously type, needing to get to the bottom of this mystery before she gave him the obvious answer. Well, at least obvious to her.

_Explain._

_Would you believe me if I said I accidentally dropped the jar?_

_Not a chance. Explain._

Again the silence dragged on, making Liz spring into action. Biting back an impatient sigh, she gathered her books, notes and supplies in anticipation of rescuing her beloved, idiotic boyfriend and his equally adored but thick friends. Sometimes she had to wonder about the lot of them, as she was certain that they had to have done something stupid and dangerous to elicit that result. Huffing when her phone chimed, Liz halted her movements and flipped it open, and frowned at Michael’s cryptic answer.

_Well it all started with guys night at Coldbrews with Kyle, Alex and Monk._

Liz smirked at the words, and then, eyes glinting just a touch evilly, couldn’t resist teasing her boyfriend for his unfortunate wording.

_Do I really want know where this is going?_

_You’re a riot._

_> snicker_

_Liz snorted at the answer; as she said earlier – they had done something stupid and dangerous and made a mess of things. Honestly, they never grew up._

__Dare? This is getting interesting._ _

__Don’t want to talk about it._ _

_Yeah, she could very well imagine that he didn’t; not that he wouldn’t spill eventually. She smiled smugly as she typed her next response; she knew exactly how to manipulate her darling fiancé and get the information she wanted. But first she had to rescue her beloved idiot and his friends._

__Injuries?_ _

__Other than my pride? No._ _

_Well, that was a plus. She was glad to know that the mindless morons hadn’t hurt themselves in their latest stunt. Although, how the hell they managed to get mayonnaise on everything she couldn’t even begin to fathom. It was…just…well she didn’t know what it was, but she sensed a story, and she was determined to get it, even if it meant tying her resistant boyfriend to their bed until she did. You simply couldn’t make a comment like that without an explanation._

_However she also was quite aware that she’d never get a straight answer through this medium. Something like this took delicate planning and the right…persuasion and motivation. Smirking, Liz threw her bag over her shoulder, and typing while she walked, headed towards the library doors; she knew there would be no more studying for her tonight with the current drama unfolding at her house._

__And whose brilliant idea was this?_ _

__Uhhhh…_ _

__Never mind. That was more than answer enough. Why don’t you just use your powers?_ _

_Liz snickered knowingly as the phone went silent once more, and stepping out of the library into the cool Roswell night, headed for her car. She was actually surprised Michael hadn’t thought of that one himself; to her it would have been the obvious answer. Then again, if they had been drinking at all, which she suspected given the current situation, he’d likely forgotten about the nifty alien powers that would have completely negated the need for the first text._

_Throwing her bag into her car, Liz slid into the driver’s seat, laughing when the phone merely sulked back at her as Michael texted:_

__You couldn’t have reminded me of that before forcing me to tell you?_ _

__And what fun would that have been?_ _

__I hate you._ _

__Love you too, babe._ _

_Still chuckling at his annoyance, Liz shook her head and set aside her phone and putting the car into drive, she pulled out of the parking lot. Amusing as it all was, she really did need to get back home to clean up the mess they had created. She still couldn’t believe…well, she’d get her answers once she sent the rest of the Foolish Foursome to their keepers (read wives or girlfriends), and she and Michael were alone._

_She knew just how to get recalcitrant men to spill their secrets; and he’d likely enjoy her interrogation methods, even if it came with a small helping of mortification._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The text used for this drabble was: _How do you get mayonnaise out of... well jesus it's everywhere, let's start with carpets._ And when I read that, I instantly wanted to know the story behind that comment, and knew that I absolutely had to use it in a story. Also, while you'll find that all the drabbles are linked, they won't be in chronological order. They are random snapshots of the same universe.


	3. Flags Aren't Just For Waving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria finds herself some place she wasn't expecting, and wearing something _completely_ unexpected.

****

Flags Aren’t Just For Waving

Liz awoke slowly, stretching languorously as she stubbornly kept her eyes shut to the world, not yet wanting to leave that warm haze that enveloped her, and she only flinched subtly when the warm, summer sun across her closed lids, casting a red haze. Sighing contentedly, she buried her nose into the soft downy pillow that still smelled faintly of wood, and smoke, and ‘Michael.’ Stretching her hands out lazily, she searched for that warm, tempting flesh that came with that scent, but was met with nothing but cool, rumpled sheets. Pouting at waking up alone, she blinked and slowly opened her eyes to the new day, and couldn’t help wondering just how Michael had managed to crawl out of bed before her, when the previous evening came back in a flood.

 _That’s right._ He took over the shift meant for one of their more… unfortunate friends, and had to go into the Crashdown early this morning.

Groaning, Liz sat up stiffly, grumbling under her breath at being denied her sweet, morning kisses, and shuffled out of the bed, thankful that she’d had the foresight not to drink as much as the others at hers and Michael’s Fourth of July bash. Stumbling into the bathroom, she started the shower, allowing it to heat to the desire temperature as she filled the glass by the sink with cool water and drank it down. The water did wonders in soothing her parched, scratchy throat, and to clearing the lingering cobwebs in her head.

She, unlike those that would currently remain nameless, had the presence of mind to limit her alcohol consumption to only a couple of drinks, knowing that while she didn’t react like the aliens, her changed physiology still made her more sensitive to its affects. She had also remembered to stay hydrated through out the evening and took a couple of aspirin before falling asleep just to be safe. Unlike others she was sure.

Smirking to herself, Liz set the glass aside and slipped out of her night clothes and into the shower, a small, evil laugh bubbling over her lips as she wondered just how the other celebrants were faring this fine morning.

… ... …

Maria came to with a heartfelt groan; one that was viciously cut off as the sound reverberated through the room, and subsequently, her head, setting the already aching member throbbing to near migraine levels. Rubbing an uncooperative hand over her face, she unsuccessfully batted aside the fine blonde locks pasted to her cheeks and nose, spitting and puffing as she went, in order to dislodge the strands coating her chalky tongue. Opening her eyes, she cursed violently as light seared them, adding to the pain ricocheting through her tender temples, and then slammed them shut once more, a little whimper falling over swollen lips.

Shifting carefully, she became aware of a hard, cold surface under her partially bare back; and couldn’t even begin to decipher why _that_ was with her thick, muzzy head refusing to relinquish any coherent thoughts. Shoving matted hair behind one ear, she slowly opened her eyes once again, slitting them this time to prevent any more unnecessary pain and hazily stared at her surroundings, a frown pulling at her lips as she recognized the trappings of a bathroom. But it wasn’t hers; and it wasn’t Liz’s, which was a daunting realization as she’d been at Liz’s last night. 

Hadn’t she?

Gingerly sitting up, Maria moaned as her head swam and her stomach lurched, churning uneasily at the hesitant movement; and she was forced to press a heated cheek to the cool, black porcelain of the tub she was lying in, in an effort to calm the heaving. _And just how the hell had she ended up in the tub in the first place?_ Whimpering again, she lifted her head and stared at the contents of the bathroom, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully – or perhaps it was in befuddlement; no one really could tell about these things when one was viciously hungover – and sucked in a breath of surprise at the distinctly masculine black, green and white setting.

She knew this place – didn’t she?

Clumsily scrambling to her knees, she studied the small room, dread slowly dripping down her spine as she began to note more and more familiar items; a feeling that spiked nearly tenfold as recognition finally hit her between the eyes. 

No…she couldn’t have… _wouldn’t_ have…would she? 

Maria hastily climbed out of the tub, ignoring the sharp pain cascading through her head and body as she nearly fell, and then straightened, staring at the bathroom in dawning horror. Ignoring the now persistent whispering in her head, she stumbled to the sink, and froze as her pale, sweat-drenched face stared right back at her from the mirror; but her blotchy, puffy face wasn’t what held her in thrall. No, what had her gaping like a fish out of water was her attire. 

Staring at her red, white and blue ‘dress,’ a new wave of panic overcame her senses, making breathing difficult as her sluggish thoughts tried to keep up with each new revelation. And then, tugging at the coarse material, her horror spiked to new levels when she noted that underneath said material - something she very well knew she _hadn’t_ been wearing last night – she was naked as they day she’d been born. Hyperventilating at this new discovery, Maria was damned near to passing out again when she spied her savior – her pretty, sparkly, pink phone sitting on top of the toilet.

Blessing whatever fates that had smiled down on her, for giving her a means of escape without having to face the owner of said bathroom, she quickly texted the only person she trusted with this information.

… … …

Liz was sitting at her patio table, enjoying a light breakfast of fruit, Greek yogurt with honey and a croissant, soaking up the warm rays of sunlight before they heated to the near oppressiveness that marked Roswell summers, and watched the neighbors’ kids playing in their yard. Waving to them cheerfully when they called a greeting, she took a long sip of her chilled mint tea – something she had just recently discovered, much to her delight – and was mentally planning her day when her phone buzzed.

Glancing down, she stared in exasperation as Maria’s name popped up, and then rolled her eyes in annoyance as the song Maria had chosen for her personal ringtone, _‘Superstar’_ by Toy Box, began to play. Honestly, she couldn’t have chosen a more annoying song if she had tried. Picking up the offending object, if for no other reason than to end her torment, she pressed accept and snorted when she read the text, which screamed at her in all caps.

_HELP!_

Arching a brow, Liz studied the four-letter word with barely contained mirth; she could practically feel the panic radiating from it, screaming at Liz for reaction. Shaking her head, she quickly typed a response, knowing that no matter Maria’s answer, it was certain to be entertaining, if not all that surprising. Having been on the end of the dizzy blonde’s antics for years, nothing seemed to faze Liz anymore.

_What did you get yourself into now?_

_IM STUCK AT MAXS. ALONE. IN THE TUB._

Liz burst out into laughter at that comment, garnering her neighbors’ notice; waving them off, she grinned at the message, full cognizant of the horror that must be painted on Maria’s face as she typed it. She knew that this had long been one of Maria’s greatest nightmares. When the group had formed and solidified, and then slowly paired with one another outside her and Max, Maria had a near meltdown, viciously swearing that she would never fall prey to the Alien Abyss that had swept over her friends. 

Much to Liz’s everlasting amusement, she had spent an entire night muttering about tricky alien pheromones and sneaky powers that bound unsuspecting humans into a unbreakable bonds. It had been hilarious. And Liz couldn’t help teasing her in that instance, snarking that ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks,’ despite knowing full well that Maria had no interest in Max. Maria had glowered at Liz, and stomped away, pouting for several days for the offense. 

Luckily, Max hadn’t been around for that conversation, otherwise he’d have taken offense and the group would have had two pouting, volatile personalities to contend with due to Maria’s words. Which was why this morning’s occurrence was just so delicious; especially given what happened last night.

_You’re what?_

_AND IM WEARING A FLAG_

_Do you have clothing on at least?_

Liz smirked at that comment, taking an almost uncharacteristic amount of glee in her friend’s predicament, and then set the phone aside, taking an unconcerned bite of her breakfast as she waited for Maria’s response. Although, based on the horror dripping off the previous answer, she could guess the likely answer; one that was soon substantiated by her phone going off impatiently, and spewing the same vitriolic answer.

_IM WEARING A FLAG!_

_So, that's a no to the clothes then._

_FLAG!_

Liz chortled, knowing that teasing a hungover Maria was akin to poking a tiger with a stick, but she couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t that often that her friends gave her ample blackmail fodder. Plus, she recalled all too well the events of the previous evening, unlike her hurting friend, and she thought a few moments of discomfort might do her lush of a best friend some good.

_So, out of curiosity, which flag?_

_WHAT?_

_American? British? Maori? Do the Maori have flags?_

_YOU’RE SO NOT FUNNY_

Liz begged to differ; she though the entire situation was hilarious, but she also realized that she had milked it for all it was worth. To continue in this vein would only set the blonde pouting for days and she had enough headaches without coddling Maria’s injured feelings. Like cleaning up the disaster the blonde had left in her wake last night.

_Right, so you need a change of clothes. Anything else?_

_MY DIGNITY_

_I think you lost that long before you lost your clothes._

Liz popped the rest of her croissant into her mouth, and allowed the blonde to chew over that little nugget. Swallowing the last of her tea, she gently dusted the crumbs from her lap and stood, calling one last comment to the kids as she headed into her house. Depositing her dishes into the sink, Liz stared at her mess of a house with a sigh and flicked her hand, nodding in satisfaction as everything began to right itself, and then walked into her room for a pair of lounge pants and a tank for Maria to wear until she got home. Giggling to herself as she imagined her friend wrapped in a flag, and then came back out, waving her hand once more to halt the cleaning and stepped out the door to ‘rescue’ her friend.

… … …

Maria sat on the toilet, hunched over as the ache in her head diminished until it was naught but a dull throb after drinking some water and taking four of the aspirin she’d found in Max’s medicine cabinet. The presence of the drug had surprised her at first, knowing that the aliens had never relied on them. Why would they, when they had those nifty alien powers that cured all their ills? But she had shrugged it off, and gratefully downed them, guessing that Max kept them around for those who weren’t ‘in the know.’

Chewing on her thumbnail, she jolted when she heard a brief knock at the door, followed by a small rattle as if someone were attempting to open it; she stared at the portal with a deer in the headlights look, panicking at thought of seeing Max in her current get up, and then sighed in relief when it held. She’d forgotten that she’d locked it once she had realized where she was and just what she’d been wearing. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with Max, or anyone else for that matter, before Liz could bring her some appropriate clothing. Especially since she had no idea how she’d gotten there.

She had been sitting there for several minutes now, trying to bring back any memories of the previous evening, but everything was hazy, and the only thing she was certain of, was she’d been playing some party game, like Quarters or I Never, which involved many shots of rum and little self-control. That was her last clear memory. After that, her thoughts degenerated into an abyss of laughing, dancing, drinking and then finally full on blackness. She didn’t remember leaving Liz’s; she didn’t remember losing her clothing; and she certainly didn’t remember cozying up to Max enough to end up at his apartment.

She was just hoping that given her current state and location that she had passed out and nothing more had happened.

Lifting her head when she heard voices just beyond the door, she shakily stood, keeping one hand clenched firmly around the ends of her flag, and slowly crept towards the door. Pressing her ear to the cool wood, her heart lifted as she made out Liz’s voice; although, who she was talking to or just what exactly she was saying Maria couldn’t make out. Throwing caution to the wind, Maria yanked the door open with a little glad cry and rushed out, halting when she saw Max and Liz conversing quietly.

This was exactly what she’d hoped to avoid. 

Squirming under Max’s amused grin, Maria thought briefly of running back into his bathroom and never coming out again, but that would have just been pathetic, and she’d already lost enough of her dignity today. Lifting her chin defiantly, she stared right back at him, ignoring her other friend in an attempt to look unruffled by her predicament. An effort that was shattered spectacularly when Max chuckled and quipped.

“Feeling a bit festive today?” he smirked, bringing Maria’s irritation to the fore.

“Fuck off,” she hissed, glaring at him heatedly, and then tossing her head, she stormed over to Liz, and snatched a bag out of her hands, rightly assuming it was her awaited for clothing. Then sneering at a still chuckling Max, she turned on her heel and marched right back into the bathroom without a word, vowing that as soon as she found out what had happened, there would be hell to be paid.

… … …

Liz barely held herself together when Maria, looking the worse for wear, came barreling out of the guest bathroom nearly as soon as she arrived at Max’s, her face a vision of mortification and horror when she noted that Max was standing with Liz. Watching in bemusement as Maria struggled with her embarrassment before shunting it aside defiantly to exchange a few snide words with Max, Liz laughed internally, only holding it back as she sensed just how volatile the situation was, and she didn’t want it to escalate.

Without a word, she held out the bag of clothing and toiletries, certain the blonde hadn’t even seen them as she stared Max down. But Maria soon pulled herself together and yanked it out of her hands, before tossing Max a disdainful moue and turning on her heel. Liz just laughed softly, feeling entirely smug for what just happened.

"You realize she's going to kill you if she ever finds out that you dumped her off here," Max murmured, still chuckling under his breath as they watched Maria make a mad dash for the bathroom she’d just vacated.

Liz watched the blonde quietly and shrugged nonchalantly at those words. She knew that she should feel bad about that. It likely made her a terrible friend to callously wrap her sloppily drunk best friend in nothing more than an enlarged American flag; and then dumping her into Max’s tub rather than dress her in some spare sweats and tucking her in bed, but she wasn’t feeling all that sympathetic at the moment. If she played this right, Maria would be so mortified, she’d never get that drunk again. 

And that’s all that mattered.

Turning to Max, she crooked a brow and let a slow, vindictive smile spread across her face, making her former boyfriend cringe at the sight as she viciously replied. “ Yeah, well, she can consider it payback for puking all over my favorite chair, and then forcing me to haul her ass out of my house at 2:30 in the morning to be hosed off... it’s nothing less than she deserves."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The texts for this drabble are – _IM WEARING A FLAG; So, that’s a no to the clothes then.; FLAG._ I really am curious as to how that happened. The comment – _American? British? Maori? Do the Maori have flags?_ – came from my beta, Whimsicality, when I told her I was tempted to have Liz ask which flag Maria was wearing. Credit goes to her for that smart ass comment.


	4. The Skins Are Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AN:** This drabble is loosely based on a real life experience I had when I was a teenager. My high school had gone down to LA for our Grad Night Trip and while we were all resting at the hotel one night, some guys I was acquainted with were smoking weed and doing God only knows what; and due to the timely string of events of first their fire alarm going off, followed by a helicopter overhead and then Disneyland setting off its nightly fireworks, they somehow came to the convoluted conclusion that the Russians were attacking. It lead to a hysterically funny night and I will never forget the sight of these guys, most taller and heavier than I, staring at the sky in horror as they rushed to warn us.
> 
> Since we saw how loopy alcohol made Max, I thought it wasn't a stretch that he could have a similar reaction if ruled by paranoia instead of his hormones.

**The Skins Are Coming**

“Wake up!” 

A harsh, feminine voice filled Max's ears, tearing him from a happy, nebulous dream that included him, Liz, chocolate syrup and a large bowl of whipped cream. Jerking slightly as a hand or foot nudged him sharply in the ribs, he groaned pitifully as the motion made his head swim sickly and then begin a slow, steady, dull throb as he attempted to open gritty eyes.

“Uhhng?” he mumbled, meaning to saying _'what'_ but it came out in incoherent syllables instead as his attempt to open his eyes became fruitless due to the fact that his lashes felt as if they were glued to hot, sticky cheeks. Ignoring the grating whine of the banshee's voice, surely there to announce his impending death given the way he felt, he flopped over on his other side and snuggled back into his pillow, fully intending to help that death on its way. Especially if it meant escaping the demon that persisted in trying to shake him into wakefulness.

But the banshee had other plans.

“I said wake up!” 

The voice was commanding, and sent a chill raking down his spine as it resembled nails on a chalkboard in his current state and he grumbled his discontent at the vile creature, trying to figure if he had enough power to vanquish her, but then decided that it wouldn't be a wise move given the irritation coating her voice. He'd likely flub it up anyway and end up causing himself harm instead. The shaking persisted until he finally had no other choice but to open his eyes, and then blanched when he was faced with an irate Maria.

“God, you smell like the bottom of a brewer's vat,” she sneered, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she stepped back from his bed and covered her mouth and nose with the back of her hand in an effort to prevent breathing in the alcohol fumes radiating off his body. He had to admit, it wasn't doing much for him either. “What the hell did you do last night?”

“Had a couple of drinks with Michael,” he muttered, somehow miraculously remembering a brief moment where he had grabbed a bottle of vodka from the protesting bartender and liberally spiked his and Michael's drinks. This all in spite the alcohol still coursing through his body, fuzzing those memories over. What the hell _had_ he been thinking? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good judging from the icy look he was getting from his roommate.

“Great, just great,” Maria spat, shaking her head in disgust as she turned away and stalked into the attached bathroom. “God only knows what else you did then.”

“Huh?” he mumbled quite intelligently, sitting up a fraction, and then fervently wished he hadn't when the world swam before his eyes. Closing them, he took several deep breaths to quell the rising sickness lurching in his stomach, and then snapped them open when he heard fast approaching footsteps, and something thrust into his face without preamble.

“Here, drink this,” Maria ordered shortly, tapping her foot as she held a glass of clear liquid at his eye level. Staring at it warily, memories of another clear, but far more potent liquid flitting through his head, he gingerly reached for the glass and brought it to his lips as Maria sniffed in exasperation. “It's just water. Your breath is rank.”

Max hastily swallowed the liquid, not wanting to further aggravate the seething woman in front of him, and then tentatively handed the glass back to Maria, who swiped it out of his hand impatiently and stomped back into the bathroom with it, filling it again from what he could gather. He was thankful for her thoughtfulness and was about to say so when she came out and handed him the glass once more; but he never got the chance as she demanded once more.

“Now what happened last night?”

“I told you, I had a couple of drinks with Michael at...” Max began hesitantly, but quickly shut his mouth when she cut him off.

“Not that,” Maria snapped, eying him with more than a little ire as she put her hands on her hips and fixed him with the stink eye. “I couldn't care less what stupidity you and Space Boy got yourselves into; I'm talking about the microwave.”

“The what?” Max asked, honestly confused, his eyes glazing over as he tried to figure out what she was talking about.

“Focus, Max, the microwave,” Maria bit out between clenched teeth, speaking as if she were talking to a very slow, dense child; which honestly, given the haze that still swirled inside his head, was necessary. “I need a legitimate reason as to why the microwave door is in the shower.” 

Max stared at her blankly for several moments, the words making absolutely no sense to his muddled brain at first, and then quickly they crystallized and cemented as the events of the previous night came back like a sucker punch to the gut. As he sat there, images came to mind of a floating, talking head staring at him from the door of the microwave; one that smirked at him evilly as he tried to microwave one of those frozen burritos Maria kept in the freezer. The eyes bore into his soul as he stared at it in disbelief, and then had grown more irate and verbally abusive as Max's paranoia grew.

Then he had heard a loud pop, followed by several more smaller pops and crackling, adding to his growing unease as the voice grew menacing and started promising his destruction if he didn't do exactly as the head instructed. He could barely breathe as the air grew hot and thick and filled with energy around him. And then finally, he heard a loud sizzle as a tiny spark formed in the depths of the appliance, which then arced wildly. Frightened by the arcing of energy and the face growing clearer inside, he yanked the door open and had accidentally yanked it off it's hinges in his haste.

“The Skins are coming!” he blurted with horror, his eyes widening with fear as he stared at the now obviously baffled blonde, who stood there, arms crossed over her chest and mouth agape at his abrupt, and completely incoherent announcement.

“What?” Maria asked, visibly astonished by his announcement.

“The Skins are coming,” Max asserted, a slow curl of dread sinking into his stomach as he recalled the vicious expletives and threats spilling out of his enemy's mouth.“We've got to alert the others.”

“What?” Maria asked again, her forehead furrowing as she stared at him, completely bewildered. “What does that have to with the microwave door being in the shower?”

“When I got home last night, I was hungry, so I put one of those burrito things that you bought in and turned it on,” Max hastily explained, rushing on when Maria nodded hesitantly, but remained utterly confused. “And then all of a sudden I heard this popping and crackling coming from it and when I looked up I saw this... this _face_ in the door. And as I came closer, it started yelling at me and screaming obscenities and that's when I realized it was Kivar!”

Maria made a funny, choking noise in her throat that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but he quickly shunted that thought aside, as he knew she would never take alien events so lightly; it was likely she was choking back a sob of fear or horror. Warming to his explanation, Max pressed on, his head still feeling cloudy as he tried to present his conclusions in a logical order.

“He was... he was somehow using the microwaves to communicate with me, can you imagine?” he asked incredulously, watching as Maria's face grew red and her eyes started to tear, cementing his belief that she was holding back her horror and fear. “And that he was trying to use the little energy wave things to open a wormhole somehow, in which he and the Skins were going to use in order to infiltrate and attack Earth. So, I did the only thing I could do.”

“And that was...?” Maria managed to choke out leadingly.

“I quickly unplugged and dismantled the microwave, and stored them in different places in the house, thus foiling his attempt to take over and enslave Earth,” Max concluded with a flourish, giving a little decisive nod of his head at the end. Which turned out to be a complete mistake as it sent mists in his mind swirling once more.

Maria was oddly silent after his explanation, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright as she opened and closed her mouth several times before finally giving it up in order to merely stare at Max as if he were a specimen under one of Liz's microscopes. Honestly, while he wasn't one to toot his own horn, he expected a bit more than that for his unseen heroics. A hug, or even a thank you would have sufficed for saving the world from mass destruction at the hands of the alien beings that surpassed them in technological and militaristic advances. 

But Maria merely stared at him as if she'd never seen him before – and not in a good way. In fact, he was starting to feel anxious under that unrelenting gaze.

Shifting uncomfortably, Max put his hands to his head, sending a bit of power through it in the hopes of pushing his way through the fog enveloping his head; he knew there had to be some vital thing he was forgetting given the girl's incredulous stare, but what it was, he couldn't fathom due to the lingering alcohol soup that was his brain. Blinking sluggishly as Maria again opened her mouth to comment, he continued to push his healing powers into that vast fuzziness. What the hell was her problem? Didn't she hear him? The Skins were going to attack!

“I...I...you know what?” Maria said eventually, her fingers pressed to the bridge of her nose as she held up the other to halt anything he could say. “I don't even want to know. Just fix it.”

“But...” Max protested, feeling a bit irritated that he was being so easily dismissed. That is until something started echoing through his clearing thoughts, a fact that he'd forgotten in his drunken haze, which made his gut tighten with a new sense of dread as he chased the memory down. Something was seriously wrong with the scenario he'd just built, but he couldn't put his finger on just what. Yet. But he had a bad feeling that his words were going to come back to haunt him.

“ _Just fix it_ ,” Maria hissed, obviously not in the mood for any of his explanations. Max snapped his mouth shut and fiddled with his blanket uneasily as thoughts and feelings and _facts_ began to flood his mind, but they were shunted aside as Maria took a deep breath and stated a bit more calmly. “Or purchase another by the time I get home from L.A., or I swear...” 

The threat in her voice was palpable, sliding hotly over his skin and made Max squirm as she finally spun on her heel and stormed out of the room. Max shuddered as he envisioned just what she might do in retaliation if he didn't heed her words, and flinched when her muttered words echoed down the hall. “I really, _really_ need to get my own place....”

Max stared after her, still slightly befuddled at first and then began to flush as his head finally cleared of the last affects of the alcohol he'd consumed and all those little whispers he'd shunted aside just moments before rushed back to taunt him. Mortified at his behavior, he turned his words in his head and realized just how mad they must have sounded to the blonde, especially as he knew that Kivar had been killed the year before by the Antarian Elite, which then disbanded much of the Skin army. Only a handful of rebels persisted and were, if anything, a minor annoyance. There was no way they could have banded together enough people to attack Earth, which was now a member of the Aarsythius Federation through Max and the others.

Really, he didn't blame Maria for fleeing while she could; he'd have done the same in her place. Closing his eyes, he groaned, lowering his still flushing face in embarrassment and swore he'd never drink again. Not that it mattered in the end; there was no way he'd live this down.

Grunting his displeasure, Max shuffled out of bed and bit back an oath as he looked at the clock and noticed that it wasn't even seven in the morning, which made sense as he knew Maria was leaving for the airport at this time on a business trip. Not that it helped his foul mood any. He really wished he had been left to nurse his hangover in bed. Then again, it had to be a rude awakening to find part of the dismantled microwave when she went to shower this morning.

Wincing at that thought, and muttering under his breath about people that persisted in waking him at indecent hours of the morning, Max slunk into their shared bathroom and hauled the offending microwave door out of the shower, and set it aside to be dealt with later. There was no way he was insane enough to test his roommate's ire by not complying with her request. He liked his manly parts right where they were, thank you very much.

Turning on the shower, he sighed, and walked over to the sink to turn it on, splashing cool water on his gritty, sticky face as he waited for the water to heat. Fuck, what a way to wake up. Turning the taps firmly off, he added a microwave to his things to do today, as well as made a mental note to message Michael as soon as he was done to see how he was faring as he stumbled into the shower. He'd likely have to listen to the other man's ribbing for waking up alone after he'd intentionally gotten them drunk so they ' _could get laid_ ,' but it was his own fault. 

Besides, whatever Michael subjected him to couldn't possibly be worse than what he'd already gone through this morning; could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End Note:** The text used in this sequence is – _I need a legitimate reason as to why the microwave door is in the shower._ I can't even begin to imagine the story behind that one. I do hope whoever sent it, didn't kill the recipient after they heard the story. Tag to **The Morning After.**
> 
> Plus, for those who haven't figured out what really happened – while Max was drunk, he did the following:
> 
>  **1.** He put the microwave burrito in, wrapper and all. This led to the loud pop as the wrapper exploded due to an increasing amount of steam building up in it.
> 
>  **2.** There was foil on the wrapper – this caused more popping, the sparking and the arc of energy. The reason you don't place foil into the microwave is, instead of absorbing the waves, it reflects them, causing it to be useless in heating the product and potentially causing a hazard, ie. the sparking and arcing that I mentioned in the drabble; it can also lead to a fire, so do **NOT** do this at home. Max was obviously not in his right mind when this occurred.
> 
>  **3.** The face was Max's own reflection in the microwave door, but due to his inebriated state and the usually indistinct features you'd get in a dull, reflective surface, well...you get the picture. The reason the face was yelling should become obvious – the more agitated he got, the more he began to abuse his so-called 'enemy.' As for the picture getting clearer, well that is easily explained by both Max coming closer to the reflection, as well as a momentary bout of clarity due to fear.
> 
>  **4.** And for those who say Max couldn't pull the door off with his bare hand – uh....alien, remember? Not to mention, humans have been known to do superhuman feats when they are terrified enough and they have enough adrenaline coursing through their veins. Enough said.


	5. Messaged Received

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle meant to send the message to Michael, but mistakes happen when one's head is muddled.

****

Message Received… 

Kyle sipped his...well, he couldn't remember which number beer this was, but he was feeling kinda toasty, swimming in a nice, warm, floaty haze that reminded him of taking a bath as a kid, or using the hot tub after a vigorous workout. He'd been watching the game (of course) and was feeling pretty damned pleased as his team had slaughtered Michael's, who was likely pouting at home. _Brooding!_ He meant _brooding_.

Cringing, he remembered all too well the last time he had mistakenly called it pouting. He hadn't been able to sit comfortably for two weeks due to those nifty alien powers. And no, he didn't want to talk about it. Such things were better left unsaid. One only needed to know that he had learned his lesson and never made such an egregious error again.

Egregious – now there was a word. Fuck, Liz had been rubbing off on him again. _Only_ in the _non-sexual_ way, of course. Christ. People had such dirty minds. If Michael even caught wind he was thinking...well see above. Some things were better left unsaid.

But he digressed. Digressed. Fucking Liz and her word a day e-mail.

He slumped into the couch, staring merrily at the cracks in the ceiling and picked out the one that reminded him of Isabel. The crack seemed to stare back at him, glowering in disapproval over his drunken state and he could just imagine the tongue lashing he'd get from his beautiful, blonde goddess if she were to see him now.

But thankfully, she couldn't.

She was off with the girls shopping or something for Liz and Michael's wedding, and doing all manner of...well, girly things. Like pedicures and manicures and sacrificing yards of chocolate, and tiny little pastries that looked more like someone's art project than pastries and champagne to all things girly. 

Frankly, he'd never understood the appeal of it; champagne that is. All those tiny, little bubbles tickling his nose, and throat and stomach as it went down gave him the willies. But apparently it was a necessary ingredient for those girly rituals. And being decidedly male, he didn't care to know or understand why or how these things went. Give him a good amber ale with a nice, stiff, frothy head any day.

Nice, stiff head. Wow, could that ever be misconstrued if...fuck another of _those_ words. Fucking Liz.

But as he was saying, Isabel was off sacrificing chocolate, pastries, champagne and poor overworked shop girl helpers to all that was feminine and holy, and therefore wasn't around to rant at his slightly inebriated state. She didn't usually harp on him for drinking, despite his changed physiology (and thank you ever so much for that Max fucking Evans), but after The Mayo Incident.... Well, he was already skating on thin ice and didn't want her charging home to babysit him in case he, Michael, Alex and Monk came up with any other bright ideas.

Kyle glared at the 'frowning-Isabel-head-crack' and maturely stuck his tongue out at it and then flipped over on his side, ignoring its glowering. Then he grinned once more as the announcer on the TV reminded him once again of a pouting...brooding Michael. He was likely holed up at home, still on restriction from the aforementioned event, sitting on his couch, downright fuming as his team's loss meant that he would have to _'do that thing he really didn't want to do;'_ as he'd lost their bet.

And, oh, what a glorious day this was shaping up to be. Sighing happily, a giggle (...er chuckle, yes chuckle) bubbled over Kyle's lips as he imagined _'the thing'_ and the reactions it would garner at their next party.

Life was grand indeed.

It almost had him feeling sorry for his shaggy-haired friend, but after being put on restriction by his control-freak girlfriend due to the Incident, (which hadn't been his fault. Mostly.), he wasn't feeling very sympathetic. However, he did have to consider the fact that a grumpy, irritable Michael often made for a very unhappy, slightly sadistic Liz, (and she was far scarier than her fiance when she was in one of _those_ moods), it likely wouldn't hurt to cheer his pout... _brooding_ friend up. 

_Before_ the tyrant made her appearance.

So, picking up his phone, Kyle stared at the blurry screen, and slowly typed out a message he just knew would make his best friend grin.

… … …

Isabel laughed at something Maria said and then took a sip of her sparkling cider. There was champagne available, and she would have preferred that if she were at home or out of the public eye. But given her alien physiology, she skipped it at the moment as one sip would have sent her loopier than Amy after discovering some new alien bauble she just had to sell at Deluca Alien Collectibles. Plus, there was much shopping and planning yet to do, so she really needed a clear head.

Swallowing the sweet beverage, she hummed happily as it trickled down her throat, enjoying the lovely grape-peach flavor that gave the illusion of the champagne that she so loved. Thankfully, after she'd declined the alcoholic offering, stating she was pregnant to explain the oddity, the cheerful and oh-so-helpful bridal shop attendant had come back with this wonderful, non-alcoholic version instead.

Picking up one of the petit fours, she popped it into her mouth, giving a little moan when orange-flavored cake and vanilla cream burst over her palate, and then flicked a glance at her watch, frowning as she noted the time. She really hoped that Liz sped things up a bit as they only had thirty minutes until the appointment to finalize the music selections, and then another to finalize the menu immediately after.

Honestly, what was taking them so long? It was a final fitting, and surely it couldn't take this long to get her into the dress to make sure everything fit properly. Liz hadn't changed sizes since her senior year in high school (the lucky bitch), so this was a formality.

“Relax,” Tess murmured, taking her arm and pulling it back into her lap with a wry smile, forcing Isabel to rip her gaze from the gleefully ticking device on her wrist. “We have plenty of time. Plus, getting out of the dress will go much faster than putting it on.”

“Luckily for Michael,” Maria quipped mischievously, her comment making Tess snicker appreciatively, as well as drawing a soft laugh from Liz's mother.

Isabel reluctantly cracked a smile of her own, and picked up another of the little cakes, sighing as rich chocolate and raspberry coated her tongue this time. These things were divine; and if she were stuck waiting for the bride to emerge from the fitting room, at least she had these sweet, tempting things to ease her notorious impatience. She really must ask where they got the delicious, morsels of happiness. They'd be a great addition to the brunch/wedding shower she was throwing next week.

Humming softly, Isabel licked the remnants of chocolate from her fingers. Reaching over to pick up her flute and take another sip of her cider she heard the familiar strains of _'Now There's You'_ by Justin Hines fill the little room. Sighing, she set down her glass and dug her phone out of her bag, internally groaning as her mind flit to all the ways her darling, but moronic boyfriend could have harmed himself in her absence.

Although, after what was charmingly dubbed The Mayo Incident, Kyle had curbed some of his reckless tendencies, but by no means did that mean he'd completely halted them.

Flipping the phone open, she pressed the accept button, mentally cringing at whatever emergency would greet her, (and it had to be an emergency, as Kyle would never interrupt the sanctity known as girl's day after...well, he'd likely repressed that memory for his own sanity); and then stared in disbelief at the message greeting her.

_I'm going to write a letter. It's going to say, Dear Every Girl Ever: Take some goddamn initiative and wake me up with a blow job and I will eat out of your hand. Love, Every Guy Ever._

Isabel narrowed her eyes at the offensive text, her lips pursed and nostrils flaring as the words smugly dripped from the screen, wondering if it were worth getting angry over. Deep down, she realized that the text wasn't meant for her eyes; oh no, this looked like the byproduct of some ill attempt at humor meant for one of his imbecilic, uncouth friends – likely her pseudo brother. And wouldn't Liz like to see just what their two idiots were sending back and forth to each other? But it had mistakenly been sent to her.

Tapping her fingers against the arm of her chair, Isabel gave a shark-like grin, and ignoring her friends' curious glances, typed a message back to her beloved. After sending it, she smiled slyly and shared the very enlightening contents with the two blondes at her side. Her smirk broadened when they gasped indignantly, a set of blue and green eyes each filling with malevolent glee as they handed the phone back to her. 

Oh, yes, she'd love to see how Kyle and his cohorts wiggled out of this one. She could just imagine her boyfriend's expression now.

… … …

Kyle stared at the TV, gleefully listening to the post-game wrap-up, certain Michael had long turned it off in disgust. His team had been owned and he wouldn't want a reminder of the task he'd have to do at their next gathering. Chuckling under his breath as he once more envisioned the brusque alien's pout... _brooding_ face, he propped his head on one arm and made a mental note to bring a camera to said event.

Tapping his foot to some indistinct rhythm in his head, he then idly wondered what the girls were up to before smacking himself across the head, memories of the last time his curiosity had gotten the better of him flitting into mind. Shuddering, he shunted those unpleasant thoughts away; there were just some things a man was never meant to know about women. Those unknown things made women a beautiful and enticing, albeit confusing, mystery and one must never breach that unspoken barrier.

Breach. Fucking Liz. Next you know, she'll have him using words like uncouth and beleaguered and plaudit and labyrinthine. Not that he fully understood those words; but she would. And that was so not on.

Cringing when _'My Alien'_ began playing on his phone, Kyle rolled his eyes, sure that Isabel was checking up on him, _yet again_ , to make sure he hadn't done anything stupid. Honestly, what did she think he was going to do? Burn the house down? Although, given The Mayo Incident, he did have to admit she was within her rights to have some doubts. 

But still!

Picking up his phone, he hit accept, expecting to see some warning or half-veiled allusion to the Incident, and froze, his heart picking up speed as he read the message. Paling when the words penetrated the alcohol haze his mind had slipped under, quickly killing his buzz, he choked on his on spit, and a thin, cold finger of dread skittered down his spine as he read it again.

_Dear Every Guy Ever, take some initiative and wake us up with breakfast in bed, a clean house, and some chocolate, and maybe you'll get laid again. Love, Every Girl Ever._

_Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!

_Oh, no _. No, no, no.__

__He did _not_ , could _not_ have sent that message to _her_ of all people._ _

__But when he quickly scrolled through his messages, there it was; screaming out from the phone, mocking him for the utter fool that he was. Closing his eyes, he pressed a hand to his face and let out a shaky breath, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face as he cursed his own stupidity. He was so in trouble now. Sighing resignedly, he opened his eyes and typed the only response his reeling mind could generate, and the only one that made sense in this sticky situation._ _

____

… … … 

Isabel waited for several minutes, an icy smile pasted onto her face, knowing her darling idiot was likely castigating himself for failing to check the recipient of his charming, little note. This hadn't been the first time he'd made that mistake, hating texting as he did. In fact, she was surprised that he had even texted the message in the first place, given he often preferred to simply call the recipient. But he had never such an egregious error before, and she was certain he was sweating like a pig on a spit.

Popping the last of her chocolate-covered strawberry into her mouth, she was thankful that their final food tasting was _after_ the music session. At the rate she was going, she didn't think she'd be able to eat a thing otherwise. Sipping on her cider, she flicked another glance at her watch, sighing internally when she saw that they only had twenty-five minutes to get to their appointment, and silently prayed that Liz would be out soon. It would throw their entire schedule off otherwise and that could _not_ happen. 

They had too much to do today.

Luckily, the music vendor _was_ just down the street from the bridal salon and it would take no more than five minutes to get there. But they were cutting it close.

Huffing when Tess once again grabbed her arm and lowered it into her lap again, a slightly exasperated look painted on her face, Isabel sent her a withering look, but immediately perked when Liz finally made her way out of the dressing room, looking absolutely lovely in her simple, A-line gown. It was nothing at all like the dress Isabel would have chosen, but she had to admit that it suited Liz, and Michael would adore it; especially when he discovered the corset back.

Liz gave an uncharacteristic giggle, and preened when her mother went up to her with tears in her eyes and cupped her daughter's cheeks in her hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she murmured just how beautiful she looked. And she did. The scene tugged at her heartstrings and made her think wistfully of how her own mother might react when she was in that spot. 

That is, if she didn't kill her oh-so-charming and beloved boyfriend before he had the chance to propose.

Tearing her eyes from Liz as he phone rang once more, she picked it up, curious as to Kyle's reaction to his spectacular flub up and smirked as only one word filled the screen:

_Fuck_

Well, she couldn't have put that any better herself. Flicking a brief glance at the bride, she sighed in relief to see her retreating to the dressing room to change. They just might make it to their next appointment on time. Glancing down at her boyfriend's text, her smile took on a vindictive edge as she quickly typed a message and then tossed her phone into her bag. Nothing more needed to or _could_ be said.

Taking a long, slow swallow of her cider, she finished off the glass and then set it aside, fishing out her trusty list, and checked off ' _final dress fitting_ ' before putting it away. Grabbing one last petit four for the road, she stood and shouldered her bag as she waited for Liz to emerge, wondering just how Kyle planned to get himself out of this mess.

Maybe she should get the name of the bakery that had supplied today's treats and send it to him as a helpful hint.

… … … 

Kyle stared at his silent phone in trepidation, a cold sweat breaking across his neck and brow as he waited for his beautiful, but decidedly evil girlfriend to pass judgment. He knew there was no talking his way out of this one, so the real question was – 

Just how much chocolate would he have to sacrifice to his girlfriend's ire and for how long?

Licking his lips nervously, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone rang, rendering his imminent doom. Picking it up with a trembling hand, he pressed accept and flinched as the verdict was read:

_Not the rate you’re going._

Fuck. This was going to cost him.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he let out the breath he'd been holding and stared blankly at the phone, wondering what to do. And finally, realizing that he was in no shape to drive, and that it was paramount the he begin his appeal now, he groaned and dialed the number of the person he least wanted to talk to at this point in time. It was time to make a deal with the devil – even if it meant having to do that thing he didn't want to do.

“Michael, I need a _huge_ favor.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 **End Note:** The text for this text for this piece (if you couldn't already guess) is – _I'm going to write a letter. It's going to say, Dear Every Girl Ever: Take some goddamn initiative and wake me up with a blowjob and I will eat out of your hand. Love, Every Guy Ever._

I wish I could say that I came up with Isabel's response to that, but alas, I did not. That was all Whimsy. She and I were copying and pasting different texts into chat to use for this series, and when I sent that one to her, she immediately fired back with that awesome response. And after giggling helplessly for several moments, I then said “I _have_ to use that in a fic!” And thus this drabble was born. This is what happens when you have a spectacular and amazingly quotable beta.


	6. Failed Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys will be boys...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts used will be at the end.

****

Failed Directions

Michael crept through the overgrown lawn quiet as a mouse, his target in plain sight as he made his way through a yard choked with tall weeds. It was obvious that the place hadn’t been seen to in a while, and it didn’t surprise him given its owner. Frowning when he heard the rustling of grass beside him, he turned his head to the right, and tossed his noisy accomplices an impatient glance, sighing internally when he was met with unmanly giggles. That was the only way to describe the noises coming out of the Beanpole’s and Short Stack’s mouth. Hissing his displeasure, he smacked the two of them up side the head, ignoring their loud, drunken protest and wished he’d learned some neat little alien trick to silence them effectively.

While their victim was supposed to be away for the weekend, and they were on the outskirts of town, where the houses were few and far between, they certainly didn’t need to call attention to themselves. 

Morons.

“Shut up,” he growled, and they just snickered, their bags rustling as they headed up the driveway. “Do you _want_ your dad to haul us in for trespassing and vandalism?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kyle sniggered, obviously not sorry at all, a sentiment that was shared with Alex. 

“Whatever,” he snarled, careful to keep his tone low as he looked over at the other house nearby, thankful to see that its lights were still off. “Just can it.”

Slipping past the Twittering Tools once they’d reached the garage, Michael exchanged a look with Monk, the only one of them that was truly sober and nodded towards the left, indicating he was going to take care of the front of the house. Monk nodded as he strode away, rolling his eyes when Dingbat and Dorky stumbled, the taller of the two nearly sprawling head over heels as they made their way up the walk. Whose bright idea was this again?

Oh, right; it was his.

But it was for a just cause; he was going to teach that sleazy, little sleazeball a lesson. No one made a move on _his girl_ without consequences, especially when the twerp was hitting on her only weeks out from their wedding. Not to mention the fact that he was constantly harassing Maria for Liz’s cell number or asking her to invite Liz over when they hung out together; or popping up at the diner, trying to convince Maria that she was still interested in Michael so she could break him and Liz up, thus freeing her, so Sean could slip in and charm his way into her pants. 

Ubiquitous bastard. 

It was all he could do to keep his revenge limited to his house and not take out his frustrations on Sean’s body as well; which, while satisfying would get him into a whole world of trouble. Plus, this was the only way he could prevent Liz coming down here herself and taking matters into her own hands. He really didn’t want to be visiting his bride in prison for ‘Extended Family Visits’. Meeting only a day a week for sex just didn’t do it for him.

So they compromised. She’d go have a relaxing spa night with Maria, to calm their stressed nerves and he’d deal with their annoying little problem.

Digging through his bags, he grinned as he brought out three packages of eggs, a ten-pack of double-ply toilet paper, a few tomatoes that he’d been ready to toss out and… marshmallow fluff? Shaking his head at the last ingredient, he could only surmise that it had been a last minute addition by Alex, as Tess nearly lived off the stuff and they had shelves of it at home. Apparently, every time it went on sale, she just had to pick one or two or _twenty_ jars up. So, she never ran out she said. Frankly, he was certain she had enough for the next fifty years, but that didn’t stop her. 

Standing up, he spent the next hour cheerfully decorating the ass-kisser’s home, taking great pride in his work, and leaving a trail of egg shells, tomatoes and TP behind him as he covered every inch of the house front. And then, taking a few steps back, he studied his work with a small frown, as somehow, it was just lacking something. Cocking his head to the side, an evil little grin flashed across his face as inspiration struck and he lifted his hand, and using his powers, wrote a suitable message across his door in foot tall letters – 

I SUCK COCK.

Chuckling to himself, Michael studied the bright red lettering, splayed tauntingly across the pale green paint and dusted his hands off, quite proud of himself. And the beauty of his creation? No matter how many times the small-minded, homophobe tried to paint over it, the message would still shine through, declaring Michael's pronouncement each and every day as he came home. _And_ , if Sean tried to complain, no one would believe him, as it would be visible to Sean alone. 

It was beautiful.

Stooping over, Michael picked up his bag and had just turned to go check on the other guys to see if they needed any help, when a voice had him freezing in dread.

“Uh guys? Has either of you seen Alex?”

… … …

Tess slipped into the den quietly, looking around nervously, even though she knew she was completely alone. Walking over to the far wall, she waved her hand over a barely noticeable indentation and stuck her hand inside, pulling out a book. Waving her hand once more, she sealed the hollow and quickly made her way out of the room on light foot falls, still glancing around her as if someone was about to jump out at her at any moment, but it never happened.

Grinning gleefully, she slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a jar of Tabasco sauce and another of Marshmallow Fluff, plus a spoon and hurried to her sanctuary – a little room that she had made into a craft slash reading room, that also posed as her office. Alex had the garage as his sanctuary, so she got the spare room. It was only fair. Stepping into it, she sighed happily, the cool blue and green tones instantly relaxing her. She felt all the tension of the week melt away as she sank into her favorite, over-stuffed chair – one that was almost large enough for her to curl up and nap in if she chose.

Popping open her marshmallow concoction, she liberally doused it with Tabasco, as the aliens had always loved the combination of the overly sweet paired with that vinegary, hot sauce, and then sank her spoon into it with a happy sigh. Popping the first spoonful into her mouth, the sigh morphed into a moan of pure bliss as the fiery-sweet treat exploded across her tongue. It was a tiny spoonful of Heaven.

Getting comfortable, she reached for the dog-eared, well worn paperback book that she'd pulled out of her hiding space and settled in for what had recently become her guilty pleasure – The Highland Warrior's Captive. It was a peril-ridden tale of a young English heiress traveling across the moors of Scotland to meet her betrothed when her party was set on by a rival Highland clan, and captured by the clan's Lord as vengeance for his own betrothed's death at the hands of her fiancé. 

Ever one of the most logical and realistic of their group, if any of her friends learned that she read romance novels in her spare time, she would be teased mercilessly. But she couldn't help it – they were thinly disguised porn with a dash of romance and a sappy ending where love conquers all; what more could a girl want? And luckily, due to some necessary male bonding ritual and the other girls being busy with one thing or another, she had hours of time to spend Kieran MacDougall and his feisty Elizabeth Renwick.

Sinking back into her chair, Tess took another bit of her doctored fluff, humming in contentment as she slipped into the world of the MacDougall Clan.

… … …

Alex studied the sky above him in utter confusion, his head hazy and aching as the stars spun madly above him, and tried to recall the sequence of events that lead to his current prone position. After copious amounts of White Russians, he remembered piling into Monk's car to go...somewhere and do...something; he couldn't quite remember what, but he did know that it was important and a worthy cause that had to do with one of his girls, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for his girls. They were his entire world.

It was something to do with some yokel hitting on Liz despite the fact that she was engaged or the like. And his Lizzie needed protecting from that fool...whoever he was...he couldn't quite recall, but that was unimportant because it was _Liz_. And no one messed with his Lizzie. So, he happily nodded, sending his poor addled mind reeling and jumped into the back seat despite the way his stomach lurched and his head swum.

Blinking slowly, he then remembered a long drive and them getting out of the car in the middle of fucking nowhere and having something shoved into his hands and being sent off to do...well he couldn't remember, but a supremely important task. That protected one of his girls. So he'd stumbled off in the direction they pointed, humming under his breath and swinging his bag and then promptly forgot what he was supposed to do. He had looked over to find his cohorts, but they had long since disappeared.

So he sat down and stared up at the sky instead, still humming to himself as he studied the stars, and had just thought that it was a beautiful and peaceful night, when something caught his attention. Narrowing his eyes, he stumbled to his feet and looked around, and frowned when something had glimmered in the distance. Clenching his hands into fists, he marched that direction, planning to take down whatever it was because it most likely was a threat to his girls and that was so not on.

And then the world had fallen out from beneath him, knocking the air from his lungs, plummeting him into some small chasm and... 

And he had no fucking clue where he was...but he knew who could save him.

Reaching into his pocket, he slowly withdrew his phone, stabbing at the buttons clumsily as he attempted to write to the only person that could help. Grinning as he sent the text off to his little, kick ass spitfire, Alex flopped back down, whining when his head hit something hard. Sweeping his hand behind his head, he pulled out a huge clump of dirt and hurled it away from him, muttering under his breath about being taken in the middle of fucking nowhere and being left to fend for himself. 

Away from his girls! Who needed protecting.

Pouting mightily, he wondered briefly where his erstwhile friends had gotten off to and huffed, swiping a hand over his face and then looked up, screaming when two large, dark eyes stared at him in curiosity. The being lowered its head, it's nostrils sniffing at him and then began to nibble at his hair as he whimpered quietly, wondering just what the foul thing planned to do to him and whether he could escape its nefarious clutches before it made a meal out of him.

And then he remembered the text. Relief flooding his insides, Alex sneered defiantly at the being knowing that his spitfire was on the way and would soon make toast of it. His Tessie would take care of him.

… … …

Kyle tossed the his empty egg cartons into the bag and stood, looking at his handiwork with a smirk, and really couldn't wait until the putz came home tomorrow evening and saw the nasty, little present they'd left for him. He personally didn't have anything against the guy; so, he hit on Liz. Most guys hit on Liz at some point in their acquaintance with her; it was just part of the guy rulebook. See a hot chick, see if you have a chance whether she is taken or not. You never know, they might be on the outs with each other and she might very well be interested in her freedom.

And really, who wouldn't want a chance with Liz? Talent, smarts, and a kick ass attitude all wrapped up in a pretty, little package. She was the real deal.

So he couldn't blame the guy for trying; but he _could_ blame him for not taking a hint. When a girl says no, she _means_ no; not maybe, not let me think about it for a few days, and definitely not, _'please hound me every time you see me on the off chance I might just give into your questionable charms.'_ Especially Liz – she was not one to suffer fools gladly and she definitely wasn't interested in a small town Lothario who was about as smooth as chunky peanut butter.

But he was getting off track.

As he said, he had nothing personal against the guy; this was definitely one of those things that fell under _'none of his business,'_ but who was he to refuse a chance to cause some mayhem? It had been ages since the four of them had the chance to get out and have some fun considering their last foray into mischief ended in an epic fail and apparently Liz was still finding mayo around the house.

Kyle grimaced at the thought, knowing they'd never live the Incident down. It was definitely classified as the fuck up of the year, if not the entire decade, and would forever be referred to in capital letters and used as a barometer for all things stupid. He still can't figure out what they had been thinking, but he supposed the point was – they _hadn't_ been thinking. That's what happens when you leave four drunk guys alone, with nothing better to do – good judgment goes out the window as soon as someone says, “I dare you...”

Turning on his heel he walked to the front of the house to meet his accomplices, looking around to make sure those in the sparsely lived-in neighborhood hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary; although, he supposed that if they did, they'd look the other way. This definitely was not one of those neighborhoods where the members watched out for one another. No, they were more than likely to rob you blind, so truly, Sean should be thanking them for preventing what he was certain would have been a break in tonight.

Sighing as he watched Michael reveling in his utter destruction of the front of the house, (that boy really needed to work on his anger issues), Kyle yawned and hoped the rest of his cohorts would soon arrive so they could go back to the bar. His buzz was wearing off and that just wasn't acceptable. After fleeing the Fun Nazi's evil clutches, he had promised that he wouldn't come home less than three sheets to the wind and he planned to make good on that promise.

Turning his head when he heard rustling from the other side of the house, he frowned when a harassed and worried looking Monk came into view, looking around him frantically. Kyle's brow pinched, and he echoed the actions, trying to make out what had Monk so agitated, but couldn't see a damned thing that warranted his panic. 

Glancing towards Michael, he watched as his friend stooped to pick up his bag before turning and froze when Monk finally reached Kyle asking them breathlessly, “Uh guys? Has either of you seen Alex?”

Kyle glanced back at Michael as he shook his head and watched as the other man paled dramatically at the question, which was answer enough in and of itself. Michael swiftly crossed the yard to stand next to him, asking between clenched teeth, “What do you mean, have we seen Alex? I thought he was with you?”

“I haven't seen him since we arrived,” Monk replied shaking his head in negation, a sweat literally breaking across his brow as he said it. And who could blame him? Tess was an evil, little bitch when angered and losing her boyfriend was definitely one of those things that would send the blonde's temper skyrocketing. “Not since Kyle thrust a bag at him and pointed vaguely to the back of the house.”

“Fuck,” Michael swore under his breath, scanning the quiet countryside with a slightly panicked frown ad a twitching eye, his skin ghostly white as he envisioned just what his sister might do in retaliation if they turned up without their fourth. “Spread out and start searching the back. He can't have gotten too far.”

Kyle nodded and headed immediately for the back of the house with the others, beginning to sweat himself. If they didn't find Alex quickly, this could measure right up there with The Mayo Incident in terms of epic fuck-ups; and just when the Nazi had finally relinquished a little of her control. He had no intention of being placed on restriction once again. But after several minutes of neither hide nor hair of their friend turning up, Kyle was just beginning to think they'd have to call in reinforcements (read the girls, who _will_ eviscerate them once they'd found out what _they'd_ done) when a familiar scream rent the air, and relief flooded through his body.

It seriously was the most beautiful thing he'd heard in ages.

… … …

_“You will show me honor, wench!” Kieran hissed, stalking his prey across the courtyard, his ire thickening when the slip of a girl merely turned her nose up at him and kept walking, his men tittering behind them._

_“Never, Scottish filth,” Beth vowed, eyes flashing indignantly as she put distance between her and the beast that had kidnapped her with every intention of ravishing her and sending her back to her fiancé soiled. Hissing when he growled and lunged at her, Beth quickened her steps, determined to get to her sanctuary before he caught her._

_Tossing her blonde curls disdainfully, Beth continued on her way, nose firmly stuck in the air, which turned out to be to her detriment as it allowed the uncouth pig the opportunity to grab her about the waist and wrench her against a firm, muscled chest. Gasping breathlessly, she froze as every line of his body pressed to hers, molding along her back enticingly and further stiffened when a low, husky voice filled her ear._

_“I think it's time you learned what happens to waspish little vixens that can't hold their tongues,” Kieran growled, wrenching the chit closer and only laughed when she began to struggle like a wildcat, writhing and squirming as she tried to break his grasp, but he held her firmly, pressing his growing manhood into her pert, little bottom. “I wouldn't do that if I were you, Princess. You know we 'savage folk' have little control over our... passions.”_

_Kieran laughed when the girl automatically stilled in his arms, horror flashing across her face, giving him the chance to manhandle the little spitfire until she lay across his knees. Gathering her skirts, he slowly raised them and..._

Tess startled when the phone next her started playing _'Don't Stop Believing'_ by Journey, tearing her from the rich, green Scottish plains, dusted with heather, that she had built in her mind and sucking her back into reality. Pouting as she glanced between her book and her phone, she considered ignoring the summons for a brief moment before reluctantly setting her book aside and picking up the trilling phone. 

And just when it was getting to a good part too.

Sighing, she pushed the accept button once she saw she had a text from Alex, and braced herself, knowing that the boys were out living it up and this was likely meant to be a smooth flirtation or intelligent communication. But, well, it never worked out that way. Once Alex had gotten a few in him, his texting skills degenerated to an incomprehensible gibberish and babbling that only he understood. Even after three years of trying to decipher his drunk speak, she'd yet to attain full fluency. 

Rolling her eyes at what was to come, Tess read the note, her brow pinching as she tried to figure out how the hell this had happened.

 _Come find me please? Im in a ditch._

Tess stared at the words at length, and still comprehension wouldn't dawn. As far as she knew, Alex was supposed to be at Coldbrews with Kyle, Michael and Monk...never mind, it all made perfect sense when she put it that way. The only question that remained was just what stupid stunt they had pulled this time in the name of male bonding and how much damage would result from it. Not to mention, just where the hell did they go if Alex was lying in a ditch?

Tossing a longing glance over to her book, Tess knew this meant her evening with Kieran and Elizabeth was likely going to be cut short, as she had to rescue her poor fool of a boyfriend. But first, she needed a little information, and only Alex could answer it, unfortunately. Bracing herself once more, she quickly tapped out a response, just knowing that she was going to regret it.

_That doesn't help me much..._

Tess tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair and waited for several minutes, but it felt like hours given she actually was concerned despite her cavalier response. She couldn't imagine what the boys could be doing that would end in this particular scenario; or maybe it was more, she didn't want to think of the possibilities. Shuddering at the thought of them running amuck somewhere in the desert, surrounded by God knows what...if anything happened to Alex because he blithely followed those morons on some supposed adventure, she was going to vaporize their asses.

Jumping slightly when her phone began blaring their song again, Tess flipped it open and hit accept, a fond smile spreading across her face as she read the message.

_I'm right under the moon!_

Shaking her head at the typically Alex answer, she huffed and realized that it was going to take a great deal more effort to pry the pertinent details from her beloved. He was a bit oblique when he had a few and the fine, important details usually fell wayside to the obvious, unhelpful details. Sighing, she debated between sending another message to her beloved, but obviously intoxicated boyfriend, or calling the only one of them that was supposed to remain sober tonight and simply ask what was happening. 

Honestly, she didn't really know from which of the two would it be easier to get straightforward answers.

… … …

Monk finished his work rather quickly and efficiently, with a precision that the other men lacked as he wasn't weighted down by the need for vengeance or gleeful destruction. He just did his job as he always did and then kept watch, making sure his idiot charges didn't do anything to get themselves killed, bringing on the wrath of three of the scariest women he'd ever had the experience of knowing, and that included his own darling, tyrant of a wife. He loved her to bits, and he'd never say this to her face, but she was a mere Chihuahua amongst those Dobermans.

He hadn't even wanted to come out here, knowing from the start that this was a _very bad idea_ ; one that was likely to either land him in jail on vandalism and trespassing charges or at the end of those nifty alien powers when the girls heard about this venture. After all, he was supposed to be the sober, mature one of the batch and they _will_ blame him if anything happened.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he tossed another glance at a cheerfully destructive Kyle and a maniacally vindictive Michael, and decided to go check up on the slightly more vulnerable of their quartet. Typically Alex could hold his own, but after two pitchers of White Russians, he was amazed the other man was even breathing, let alone able to stand on his own two feet. He had to admit, in spite his thin, gangly body, the man could pack them away.

Rounding the corner of the house, Monk frowned when Alex was nowhere to be found; which given the man's height, was a feat in, and of, itself. Spinning in a tight circle, the dread that had begun to creep into his cells since they'd left the bar for the outskirts of town, solidified and sunk into his stomach like a lead ball. 

This couldn't be good.

“Alex?” he called softly, not wanting to alert the neighbors to their presence, or the other guys of the problem just yet, as well as not wanting to startle the man in question if he was indeed nearby. But only silence, and the echo of his own voice, answered him.

Grimacing, Monk took a few more steps and then noticed the full bag sitting on the ground near the back wall of the house and cursed under his breath. Spinning on his heel, he quickly made his way to the front and quickly explained the problem when Kyle and Michael joined him, huffing when they looked stunned and paled at the implications. Vowing that he was going to murder each and every one of them when this was over, he turned again and started heading across the field behind Sean's house, calling Alex's name as he searched the tall weeds for any disturbance.

And was rewarded for his diligence when, after several minutes, he heard a loud, blood-curdling scream ring through the field from his left-hand side and, heart thundering in his ears, began to run full pelt through the tall grass, praying that his friend wasn't being mauled by some vicious animal, or worse, one of the shady neighbors. Following his friend's desperate babbling, Monk came to a shallow ditch and screeched to a halt, staring in disbelief as his friend viciously berated...a cow?

Rolling his eyes, he dropped his hands to his knees, attempting to get his breath and heart under control as Alex continued to promise all manner of pain and death to the poor unsuspecting cow, which, in turn, continued to nibble at the irate man's hair without a concern in the world. Sighing, Monk lowered himself into the ditch beside Alex, and swatting the cow away, hauled the other man to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his arms so that Alex didn't keel over once more and perhaps knock himself out this time.

“Monk!” Alex bubbled as he threw his arms around Monk, a happy grin etched into his face, making Monk stagger at taking his full weight and then wince when the other man began pounding on his back with friendly verve. “Did my Tessie send you to rescue me?”

_Tessie? Oh, no. Please tell me he didn't._

But even as Monk thought that, Alex began to babble about how he just knew his Tessie would save him from the vile, vicious being that was attempting to eat him, waving his phone in the air in emphasis. Monk cringed at the mention of Tess and knew that he was in for a world of pain when he finally got Alex safely home.

“Yes, Alex,” Monk agreed tightly, sighing as he tried to pry the phone from the other man's grasp. “Here let me have your phone so I can tell _'Tessie'_ that I found you.”

“Okay!” Alex burbled, pulling away with exuberance to hand Monk the phone, and inadvertently sent him swaying dangerously on his feet. 

Monk grabbed at him, cursing mentally as he prevented the other man from falling on his ass once more and then took the phone, muttering that he was going to come back and haunt Michael if Tess eviscerated him because of this disaster. Flipping the proffered phone open, he typed a quick message before pocketing it and then helped the other man out of the ditch just as Michael and Kyle ran up to help. Glaring at them menacingly, he pointed towards the car and announced between clenched teeth.

“We're leaving. Now. Before any of you do anything even more stupid.”

… … …

Tess sighed, and was just resigning herself to getting up out of her comfortable little nook to go on her 'Alex rescue mission', when the phone went off again. Pressing accept, she laughed, and then shook her head and smirked as she read the message; she could nearly feel the fear dripping off the hasty explanation. 

_Hey Tess, it's Monk. Everything is fine and I have Alex. Just a bit of a mix up, yeah? No worries, we'll be home soon._

Tess giggled at the message, knowing that the other man was likely about to wet his pants in fear over her potentially irate reaction, and she did briefly consider taking him to task for momentarily losing her boyfriend, but then shrugged it off. Somehow, she was certain this folly was all on her dimwitted brother's shoulders, and Monk was just an innocent victim to her boys’ rampant stupidity. Although...

Nibbling on a spoonful of Tabasco-laced marshmallow fluff, she typed out one last message before turning her attention back to the dashing Kieran MacDougall and his lovely spitfire, Lady Elizabeth Renwick. After all, it wouldn't hurt them to sweat a bit.

_Bring him back in one piece or else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The texts this drabble was based on were - _Come find me please? Im in a ditch; That doesn't help me much...; I'm right under the moon!_ Also, my apologies for the painfully bad romance novel piece...


	7. Paying Your Dues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Kyle had a bet...this could only end ugly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this, I caught a cold which morphed into an ear infection that was a complete bitch; I don't remember ear infections being that painful as a kid. Also, this is the last of my written drabbles. I have a few more in the works, but all my writing came to a halt when I was ill, so it might be a bit before the next one is posted. Sorry, but not much I can do at this point. Tag to **Message Received.**. The text this was based on will be at the end of the drabble so I don’t ruin the story before it comes up.

****

Paying Your Dues

Liz swept her hair up with practiced hands, slowly molding and pinning the thick, sable curls into an artful cluster at the crown of her head, allowing it to then drip and cascade over her neck and back. Sighing when a stubborn tendril or two kept coming loose, she finally gave up and left them to dangle softly against her cheeks as she wrestled the rest into a beautiful up do. Snapping it all into place with one last jeweled barrette, she then turned to the small bag at her elbow and begun to apply her make-up with a light, deft touch – eyeliner, soft, barely there shadow, a wisp of mascara, just a hint of blush, and finally the pale pink shimmer of gloss. It was all she needed in her opinion.

Not that her friends would have agreed.

Smirking as she recalled their oh-so-innocent invitation to get ready at Isabel’s house, Liz put away her make-up bag and then turned to her clothing with an exasperated huff. Did they honestly think they had fooled her? Their tones had been a little too innocent for her comfort, which is why she had flatly declined, a little knowing smile quirking her lips as Tess giggled and the other two pouted. Isabel and Maria had longed to get their hands on her, to give her a ‘much needed update,’ as they put it, but she routinely shot them down. She was quite happy with her simple style, and as long as Michael liked it, then it was no one else’s business. 

Her look was understated sexy and fit her personality. She saw no need for, nor did she have any intentions of, updating her look. 

Besides, she had seen what Maria considered fashionable over the years – anyone recall that god awful pixie cut from sophomore year – and there was no way in hell that she’d let her near her clothing or hair, best friend or not. She had far too much self-preservation for that.

Slipping into a simple, silky burgundy tank top, she topped it with a black, v-neck sweater and paired them with snug, black jeans that hugged every curve, but were still loose enough to be comfortable. She then sat down on the closed toilet seat to put on black boots that hit her at mid-calf and added the diamond earring and necklace set that Michael had gotten her for Christmas. Something she suspected happened at Isabel’s interference, since she had also received a microscope as well, (which she absolutely loved), and jewelry wasn’t really something she or Michael wore all that much. 

Standing up, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, smiling and nodding her approval, she plucked at her sweater – it clung in all the right places without being too low-cut and wasn’t so tight that it would be considered indecent. Plus, if she got too warm, she could just remove it. That was the beauty of her fashion sense – multiple layers, so that she’d never be caught off guard unlike her friends who followed fashion dictates to the point of almost freezing to death. I mean really, what was the point to wearing something that was only going to leave you miserable and uncomfortable the entire time? 

It made no sense.

Giving her appearance one last look, Liz nodded to herself and exited the bathroom, off to find Michael, who she was certain was waiting for her in the living room, impatiently pacing and scratching at his brow. Michael had never been one to care much for his appearance, and typically, party clothes to him consisted of his least ripped pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt, with his least wrinkled, long-sleeved shirt thrown over the top. One that was _only_ in one of three colors – black, navy, or a green so dark, it might as well have been black.

This of course was topped off with his least scuffed Docs, and his ever present rings, the only jewelry Liz had seen him wear; and those only because he had been found with them when social services rescued him from the desert. At that point, all he would then do is run a brush through his shoulder-length waves and call it good. 

It was actually rather irritating that someone could look so sinfully sexy in ten minutes. At most.

Which is why she was utterly confused that she found the living room empty when she emerged from their room and her boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. Glancing down the hallway curiously, she turned towards the kitchen, think he might have gotten a drink; but when she got there, she found it too was empty. Frowning, she made her way back into the living room, and that’s when she noticed that the guest room door was closed; something she typically left open unless it was occupied. Standing before the door, she twisted the knob, her frown deepening as she noted that it was locked from the inside.

“Michael?” she called out, hesitantly knocking on the door, and arched a brow when she heard a suspicious rustling from within.

“Just a minute,” Michael called through the door, the solid wood doing nothing to hide the obvious irritation lacing his tone. “I’ll be done in just a minute or two.”

Liz just raised her brows slowly at this comment, wondering what could possibly be keeping her no-fuss boyfriend; especially when she swore she heard him muttering, _‘I just need to figure out how to put these stupid things on,’_ under his breath. Casting a wary glance at the door, Liz decided that, after the Mayo Incident, she really didn’t want to know. Instead, she walked away, shaking her head and calling over her shoulder – 

“I’ll just wait for you in the living room then.”

Liz sat down in her favorite, overstuffed chair, thankfully easily liberated of Maria funk due to her nifty powers, and proceeded to wait for several more minutes. But the door to the guest bedroom remained firmly closed and the only thing she could hear was Michael’s garbled muttering followed by the occasional thump and curse. Pursing her lips, she was just about to go back over to the door when Michael came storming out in a fine temper, wearing…well she honestly wasn’t sure exactly what he was wearing, but it definitely had the power to completely rob her of her speech.

Mouth agape, Liz stared at her sulking beloved unblinkingly for a full minute before the burning in the back of her eyes forced her to do so; and then she blinked again, because, really, what else could she do? There really were no words to adequately describe the sight before her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to find the words. 

Meanwhile, the tetchy alien merely stared back, almost daring her to say something.

Finally, after another minute had passed in complete and utter dumbfounded silence, as well as neither of them relinquishing that unflinching gaze, Liz cleared her throat and commented in as calm and dry a voice as possible – 

“I was unaware that a tutu and pasties were appropriate attire for this…”

But she barely managed it, choking on her laughter as she was, and she was quite proud of herself when she managed to swallow it down before she could irritate Michael further. 

Michael just glowered, as he likely knew she was laughing at him on the inside, and then huffed, because, again, what could be said? He was standing there, clothed in a knee-length, black tutu, bare-chested, with two scarlet pasties dangling from his nipples. And if that weren’t bad enough, there were two golden bells, one attached to each tassel, chiming whenever he moved. This all paired with shiny, just buffed black Docs with red laces; she supposed if he were to be wearing the most ridiculous thing she had seen in a long time, at least it didn’t clash.

Licking her lips, Liz lifted shining eyes to her morose boyfriend, and opened and closed her mouth several times before she finally managed to say, “How…why…?”

“Don’t,” Michael commanded tetchily, nearly spitting the word through clenched teeth as he defensively crossed his arms over his chest. “Just…don’t.”

Liz swallowed her laughter with visible effort, again; which just set the irate man to scowling fiercely as he began to mutter under his breath about unfair bets and midgets that needed their asses kicked. Ah. So _that_ was the way of it. Yeah, she _was_ better off not knowing just what had led to this event.

“All right,” she conceded, getting out of her chair to gather her wallet and the car keys, her lips twitching as she helplessly attempted to quell the giggle rising in her throat. “We should probably get moving then.” And then paused when Michael’s face split into a smile of unholy glee as he strode out the door with as much dignity as possible, mumbling, “Yes, let’s. I can’t wait to see Kyle.”

Raising a brow to that comment, Liz just smirked and thought; ‘ _it’s going to be an entertaining night._ ’

… … …

Isabel stared at the clock above the mantle for the dozenth time and huffed, tapping her fingers impatiently against her arm as she wondered just what on Earth was taking Kyle so long to get ready. They should have left for Maria’s fifteen minutes ago, and now, they were going to be late. He knew she despised being late. Huffing again when she heard a loud clatter from their room, she blatantly ignored the whispers and the curious glances that Tess and Alex kept shooting her.

Usually, it was the opposite. Kyle was sitting out in the rec room, chatting with Tess and Alex, idly tapping his fingers to some beat he heard in his head and waiting for Isabel to finally be done with her beauty rituals. But for some reason, Kyle had waited for the last possible minute to get ready, shooting Isabel and their roommates a shifty look as he scurried into their room to change. She hadn’t said anything at the time, as it normally took him no time at all to get ready; but now, twenty minutes in, she was beginning to wonder what the hold up was. 

And she was just about to pound on the door and demand to know exactly that when the door opened and Kyle came strutting out.

Isabel’s jaw dropped; sagging to nearly her chest as she froze and stood, gaping at her boyfriend in a completely uncharacteristic way. But could anyone really blame her? For standing there, hand resting on one sassily cocked hip, stood Kyle in an electric blue corset, black leather hot pants and black cowboy boots. The entire outfit was augmented by a black Stetson, an electric blue feather tucked into its band, and a dazzling, devil-may-care grin.

Opening and closing her mouth in complete and utter shock, Isabel didn’t know what to say; especially when he jauntily tipped his hat at her and drawled. 

“Howdy there, little Lady.”

At that point, her equally speechless roommates lost it, Alex howling in laughter at the sight and Tess, giggling from behind her hand, jolting Isabel out of her speechless stupor enough to demand, “What on Earth are you…”

But then halted, once again struck speechless as Kyle preened and posed for their hysterically laughing friends, pulling a toy gun out of God only knows where since his hot pants didn’t look as if you could shove a piece of paper in them, let alone props. Closing her mouth with a snap, Isabel raised a single hand to ward off any explanations. Because really, they weren’t needed.

“On second thought, I don’t want to know. Let’s just go. We’re late enough as it is.”

And with that, Isabel spun on her heel and began to gather her things, blatantly ignoring the conversation swirling around her. Because it was the truth. She _really_ didn’t want to know why her boyfriend was dressed like a pornographic cowboy. Although, she was quite certain that Michael was involved; he just had to be.

“I didn't know that this was going to be a costume party,” Alex snickered, attempting to, but utterly failing, to pout. Mostly due to the uncontrolled mirth that continued to bubble up from his gut. “I feel so left out.”

“Not to worry,” a giggling Tess soothed mockingly, patting Alex on the arm as they walked out the front door. “I put your maracas and sombrero in the car. You should fit right in.”

“You know,” Alex replied thoughtfully, his face a mask of confusion. “I _still_ can't remember where I got those.”

“That’s probably for the best, dear,” Tess nodded, playing the sympathetic wife routine as Alex shook his head, and then chortled when Kyle bolted past them, galloping to the car as if he were riding a horse, cackling madly as he breezed past.

“If you guys like this, you’re gonna love Michael’s get up!”

Isabel just groaned at that comment, rubbing at her temples as the beginnings of a headache made itself known, closing and locking the door behind her, and wondered, not for the first time, just what the hell had she gotten herself into, and whether it was worth it. Then turning around, she studied her loudly whooping boyfriend with a reluctant grin as he pretended to lasso Alex, and rolled her eyes, knowing that yes, yes it was. And then followed behind the pack and climbed into a car full of love and laughter.

If nothing else, it certainly wasn’t boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is based on this original text - _I was unaware that a tutu and pasties was appropriate attire to this_. I swear, there should be a rule that says you can't send these things in without the story attached to it. Then again, I suppose I wouldn't have this drabble series if I had an explanation. So yay for those who unknowingly pique the muse.


	8. Fun With Handcuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds himself in a bit of a predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, somehow I missed posting this drabble here, so you'll get two today.

****

Fun with Handcuffs

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Kyle tapped out an indistinct rhythm on his thigh, impatiently staring at the phone that just wouldn’t ring no matter how long he glared at the silent, taunting device. Liz had promised to call him back whenever _‘the plan’_ , whatever her brilliantly devious mind had concocted, had been enacted, leaving their victim helpless to his whims. But that had been nearly an hour prior, and thus far, he hadn’t heard a damned thing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. And he was swiftly running out of time.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Not that it mattered to the evil, little vixen likely; he was certain that so long as the slippery minx had gotten what she wanted out of the deal, his own plans didn’t matter. She merely wanted her freedom. So if she managed to escape detection, what did it matter if all his carefully orchestrated plans would be thrown off because she was far too busy escaping her would-be-captor? But he couldn’t think on that. She had to prevail; or all their scheming would be for naught.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Huffing with irritation, he picked up the phone and began to dial her number, completely going against her direct orders (after all, if the alien she was trying to placate caught onto their partnership, there would be hell to be paid), but then showing uncharacteristic restraint, quickly erased it and dialed his voicemail instead. It was possible that when he had been fiddling with the phone earlier, he might have messed up the settings, or turned the ringer off. He didn’t think so, but anything was possible. And he absolutely did not want to think of the repercussions if _‘the plan’_ failed. 

If Liz had gotten caught…well it was going to take far more than he had to get her released.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Growling when his voicemail once again told him it was empty, he flipped his phone shut and tossed it onto his couch, utterly grateful that Isabel was away initiating the second phase of _‘the plan’_ so she wasn’t there peppering him with questions and coming up with scenario after scenario of everything that could have gone wrong. Essentially – driving him mad. Don’t get him wrong, he adored his girlfriend; loved her to pieces really, but she had always been a bit of an anal-retentive, control freak and he didn’t need that kind of stress piled on top of what he already felt.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Kyle glanced at the clock, the minutes slowly ticking away, and swore under his breath when he realized he had less than an hour before he had to initiate the next step of ‘ _the plan’_ and he wasn’t even positive that phase one had gotten off the ground. Damning the consequences, he picked the phone up and was about to dial his accomplice’s number when the damned thing finally vibrated and began to play _‘Enter Sandman.’ It was about fucking time._ The wench certainly was cutting things close; he was barely going to have enough time to pick up the package before he left for his appointment. Although, why she was calling from this phone…no, it couldn’t be.

She couldn’t have met with failure; it was word that wasn’t in the Liz Parker dictionary. She was far too cunning to have been caught out.

Pressing the accept button warily, he studied the message for a full minute, blinking incredulously as the words blared across the screen, and then his lips twitched, a smile slowly spreading across his face just before he let out a surprised bark of laughter. Oh, this was just too good. He couldn’t believe the little minx had it in her, and he couldn’t wait to hear the story behind this folly. 

Kyle hit the send button, preferring to hear this straight from the horse’s mouth; anything else would have just been anticlimactic. Not to mention that he detested texting; he’d never understood the urge to text everyone and anyone with every moment of their day. If he wasn’t near a phone, it obviously meant he wasn’t in the position to talk. In fact, he was worse than Michael had been when Liz had first thrust a brand new phone in his hand and told him he better have it on him at all times, or else. And even Michael wasn’t brave enough to test the evil smile that spread over her lips when she said that. But he avoided all forms of texting if he could help it.

At least, that was until he discovered sexting. 

Shuddering at that thought, Kyle waited in gleeful anticipation until the recipient picked up, and Michael came on with an aggravated huff. But he didn’t even let the gruff alien get a word in edgewise before he was barking a pertinent question.

“You’re what?” he asked incredulously.

“What part of I'm handcuffed to an oven did you not understand?” the alien retorted testily, grumbling under his breath about deceptively coy smiles and large, brown puppy eyes, making Kyle chortle. He could just imagine the other man, sprawled out in front of his stove, one arm dangling from the oven door as he texted and talked with his other. He could only begin to imagine his annoyance.

“Dude, I thought I told you, I don’t want to hear about yours and Liz’s kinky sex games,” he snickered, knowing full well that despite his teasing, Michael wasn’t going to be having fun any time soon – Liz was nowhere near the house at that moment.

“Shove it,” Michael snapped, confirming Kyle’s initial thoughts with that cantankerous comment; no man about to get laid was ever that cranky. “Liz isn’t here.”

Well, duh.

“How the hell did this happen?” Kyle couldn’t help but asking. When he’d asked for Liz’s help in keeping Michael home for the evening, so he could easily track him down and drag him to his surprise bachelor party put on by Max, he certainly never imagined this level of…creativity.

“It’s a long story,” Michael muttered, hedging on an explanation as he likely didn’t want to admit that a woman less than half his size had gotten one up on him.

“Well, it’s not like you’re going anywhere, are you?” he taunted gleefully, chuckling anew when Michael swore violently and creatively under his breath. 

“Ha. _Ha._ Jackass,” Michael sniped, a slight clinking just barely audible on the other side of his speaker; and Kyle had to wonder if the other man was still stubbornly attempting to pry himself loose from the oven. “Remind me to zap you later.”

Like he was foolish enough to do that. Snickering under his breath, Kyle was probably going straight to hell for enjoying his friend’s plight, _and_ his creative invectives as he tried to wrench away from the stove, but it was just too funny. He had to wonder what Liz had done to make them stick. He’d always assumed that handcuffs of this sort came with a safety release latch just in case the key was lost. 

Not that he knew anything about that. 

Yeah.

“So?” he prompted, lying back on the couch; he knew they were going to be late to Max’s little shindig, but this was worth listening to King Nothing’s whining; he just knew there was a spectacularly funny story behind this.

“Liz did it before she left,” Michael grumbled, refusing to elaborate. But Kyle was having none of that.

“Why?” Kyle asked, knowing full well the answer to that before he asked, but he was curious as to what excuse Liz gave him when she left. Michael muttered an answer, but Kyle couldn’t quite make it out. “What was that? I’m not fluent in mumble.”

“I said, tonight’s her bachelorette party,” Michael bit out between clenched teeth.

“Ahhhh,” he hummed knowingly, marveling at his friend’s cunning and intelligence. She didn’t even lie. “Did the cave man routine, did you?”

“No,” Michael retorted, seemingly torn between amusement and irritation at Kyle’s words. “She said it was preventative.”

Yes, his Lizzie was one smart cookie. Even if he hadn’t asked for her assistance in cornering Michael, he was sure she would have done something similar to prevent Michael’s interference. Although, this did beg one obvious question.

“So why not use your powers to get out?” Kyle asked, curious as to why they were even having this conversation.

“She set that device Brody gave her,” Michael grit out almost inaudibly.

Kyle couldn’t help it; he threw his head back and howled with laughter, one hand clutching helplessly at his stomach as tears of mirth trickled from his eyes. Did he say Liz was a smart one? He meant that she was downright gifted – a complete and utter mastermind. Man, just when he thought she couldn’t possibly surprise him further, she somehow managed new levels of genius.

“So…so let me get this straight,” Kyle choked out between guffaws, completely unrepentant, and unsympathetic towards his friend’s predicament. “Your girlfriend lured you into the kitchen, handcuffed you to the stove and then set the power-blocking thingy, to make sure you didn’t follow her.”

“Yes,” Michael sulked, obviously mortified at being played by his beloved fiancée.

“Man, that is just priceless,” Kyle chortled, sitting back up and clambering off the couch. He knew that he better rescue the tetchy alien soon – before all hell broke loose. Besides, they did have a party to attend.

“Laugh while you can, midget,” Michael snarled, a very distinct loud rattle sounding in the background, followed by a rather significant bang, drawing another chuckle from Kyle. “Now get the hell over here and get me out. She left the key on the counter.”

“I’m on my way,” Kyle assured, hanging up with the cranky, cursing man as he grabbed his car keys and then dialed a familiar number; the one he had been expecting the first time his phone chimed.

“Genius…pure genius,” he complimented as a husky voice chirped a bright hello, still laughing as he headed out the door.

“Hey, you told me to make sure he stayed put,” Liz replied; and he could hear the grin in her voice despite the loud music and girlish laughing in the background. Obviously they had started a bit early. “He’s waiting for you at home, isn’t he?”

“You know you’ll pay for that?” Kyle snickered, hopping into the car and turning it on, waiting for it to warm up a bit as he finished talking with his friend. He was thrilled for both of them. A love like Liz and Michael’s came once in a lifetime, and they had certainly met their match the day they crash landed into each other’s worlds.

“Yeah…” Liz drawled, a little giggle bubbling over her lips, and Kyle couldn’t help wondering just how much she’d had to drink already, especially when she continued in a low, husky voice. “But it will be oh, _so_ much fun…”

“Oh that is just sick, Parker…” Kyle groused, gagging as an image he’d never wanted popped into his head. “I’m hanging up now.”

Kyle hastily hung up the phone, tossing it onto the seat next him as he put the car into drive and pulled away to go rescue an alien, that for no matter how many years he knew her, and loved her, will never outsmart that beautiful brain. But he didn’t think that really mattered at the end of the day. He had Liz and he’d never seen Michael happier.

Despite being handcuffed to an oven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble utilizes the text - _What part of I'm handcuffed to an oven do you not understand?_ I do hope it was a fun night at least.


	9. Sunday Brunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wakes up to the unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Warning: Implied threesome and female slash. There is nothing more than a kiss seen, but I don't want to hear people whining about it later.

Michael sat on the toilet, staring at his phone, still reeling from information overload and wondering if what he'd just been faced with really happened. He licked his lips and rubbed his gritty eyes, his mouth feeling as if he had slept with one of Kyle's gym socks in it, and cast his mind over the events that landed him in his current predicament, praying that Liz wasn't going to kill him. Although, considering what he just saw beyond the door he was currently standing (read cowering) behind, she’d been a willing participant to the madness, so hopefully that would buy him a little leniency. 

Running a hand through his tangled hair, Michael cringed when he again heard the murmur of feminine voices beyond the door, lightly conversing as if he weren't in the middle of a Crisis of Epic Proportions and hoped his lazy friends would get to their phones soon to help him out. He wasn't even sure how to wiggle out of this situation on his own. Tapping his fingers against the counter, he felt a bit like a fool crying to his friends, but who could blame him? The Events, as he so coyly named them as he wasn't quite up to facing what had happened, were just a little beyond his own imaginings.

Sighing with irritation, Michael was about to message his three confidantes once more, when finally a message popped up from Kyle, followed quickly by Alex.

**Kyle:** _What's up?_

**Alex:** _You rang?_

Michael smirked, knowing that his friends were likely glaring at their phones for being roused so early in the morning; he might have felt worse about dragging their asses out of bed on one of the few days they were allowed to sleep in, but as he said - Crisis of Epic Proportions. They’d just have to deal with the early hour. Well two of them were; one of them, who shall remain nameless, was likely already awake.

And speaking of anal-retentive, happy morning people...

**Michael:** _Where's Max?_

**Max:** _I'm here._

Michael winced at the comment, rightly envisioning the happy chirp that would be behind that statement had the man been there in person. Rubbing a hand over his face, he stared at the phone for a couple of long minutes, trying to decide how he was going to explain this last foible and had just about figured it out when the phone in his hand chirped impatiently.

**Alex:** _Uh...bro, no offense, but if you don't say something soon, I'm going back to bed._

**Kyle:** _Awww...is Alex missing his wittle Tessie_

**Alex:** _Fuck off, Shortround. Honestly, you say something once while you're drunk..._

**Kyle:** _Tessie Wessie....Alex is missing his Tessie Wessie..._

**Max:** _Can it you two. What are you, five?_

Michael smirked when both Kyle and Alex typed a resounding 'Yes!' one right after the other and then, finally figuring he'd just start at the beginning, began to type.

**Michael:** _Well. You remember that Ava is staying here, right?_

**Max:** _Yes?_

**Michael:** _Well things got...interesting last night._

**Kyle:** _Interesting how? *smirk*_

Michael chuckled as he could fully envision the leer on his friend's face; rightfully so given the Crisis of Epic Proportions that lay just behind his bathroom door. Scratching at his brow, Michael grimaced, the Events flooding his mind as he typed it out to his friends. 

... 

_"I really appreciate you guys allowing me to rent your spare room while I’m looking for a place here,” Ava said as she followed Liz into the living room, a wine glass in her hand. "I would have asked Tess and Alex, but they've been so busy moving into their new place, that I didn't want to be a burden."_

_"Not a problem," Liz assured with a smile, waving off Ava's comment with her hand as she sat on the couch. Michael raised a brow at this, but made no comment as he brought the remainder of the wine, and a beer for himself, into the room and sat in one of the chairs. Liz just shot him a look, and patted the couch next to her, inviting the blonde to sit. "Come, sit with me and tell us how California was and about all the pranks you played on Kal."_

_A lively conversation followed over the next couple of hours, with Ava regaling them with tale after tale of her adventures and the audacious stunts she pulled on her gruff protector, leaving both girls in tears of mirth as the conversation reached a lull. Michael squirmed in his seat, sipping on his beer quietly as he thought about what he would be doing right now had Ava not been present._

_Typically, the time after dinner was spent with Liz, either cuddled on the couch watching TV or talking or...other things, but having a guest threw off their normal routine; something that became obvious as Liz avoided his hot gaze and running a hand awkwardly through her hair as she asked their smirking guest -_

_"So, what would you like to do now?"_

_"Whatever," Ava shrugged nonchalantly, but Michael could make out the faint sparkle of mischief in those bright blue eyes as she drawled. "What do you two usually do at this time?"_

_Lust slammed into Michael as he met Ava's all too knowing gaze, and he licked suddenly parched lips as he turned away; no way was he going to supply the obvious answer. He figured he'd let Liz field that question before his wayward tongue got him a cold night on the couch. Which is why when Liz stumbled out an explanation it shocked him to the core; he didn't expect her to answer that honestly._

_"Oh...um...well," Liz hedged, stumbling over her words as her cheeks flushed hotly and then glanced at Michael for help. He just smirked wickedly, thoroughly enjoying his girlfriend's discomfort and make a mental note to get her tipsy more often if this was the result._

_"Ohhh," Ava purred slyly, a smirk flashing across her face as she studied the two of them with blatant interest and then leaned back into her seat. "Well then, by all means, Cornball. Don't let me stop you. In fact, if you don't mind an audience..."_

_"Ava!" Liz squeaked, her cheeks darkening at the comment, but rather the flush being in complete embarrassment, Michael could tell that part of it was due to arousal; and he couldn't help that...things perked up in interest at the thought._

_This had long been one of their secret kinks, but one they'd never explored as their group was close as siblings to one or the other and it felt wrong to ask any of those they'd trust with this. But if the blonde was game, he was all for it. And despite her spluttering, he knew secretly Liz was intrigued by the invitation dripping in Ava's voice._

_Ava just laughed softly at Liz's reaction, those bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief as she once again met Michael's gaze and arched a brow, her eyes darting back to Liz for a moment before they fused with his knowingly. It seemed she was privy to more of Liz's secrets than he realized, but he refused to voice his own lust. This was something Liz had to approach on her own terms, and only when she was ready._

_Ava flicked a gaze between them again and then smiled brightly, letting Liz off the hook. Or so it seemed at first. Michael didn't quite trust the gleam in the other girl's eyes._

_"I know," Ava blithely continued, ignoring Liz's embarrassment. Ava set her wine glass on the table and got up, walking over to one of the end tables, where he and Liz kept their board games for those nights the group just wanted a night in._

_Hunching over, she began rummaging through their games, giving Michael a perfect view of her delectable ass, and he couldn't help the stirrings of lust in the pit of his stomach as he watched it wiggle in the air. Coughing softly, he tore his gaze away, his cheeks flushing when Liz arched a knowing brow and then giggled (giggled!) as he turned away. Finally after what seemed like eons of wriggling and writhing, but really had only been a moment or two, Ava cried out triumphantly and pulled a box out of the pile._

_"Let's play Scrabble!" she chirped innocently, but there was a sly tilt to the edge of her smile._

_Scrabble?_

_She went from offering to watch them have sex, to playing Scrabble? Michael was frankly skeptical; there had to be something he was missing, and he said so as she placed the game onto the coffee table and opened it._

_"Scrabble?" he scoffed lightly, his eyes flitting to Liz, where she sat slightly befuddled as well. Ava merely smirked at his doubtful tone, her eyes darting to a slightly let down Liz, causing him to arch a brow as he tried to figure out her game._

_"Yes, Scrabble," Ava nodded, her eyes dancing with a devilish amusement that alerted Michael that she was up to no good. Something cemented when she purred, "Dirty Scrabble to be precise."_

_Michael's interest perked up at that mention, the heat that had already begun pooling in his gut at the first mention of illicit activities, beginning to smolder and flame as she watched the two of them with lazy eyes. Licking his lips again, he slid out of his chair and sat on the ground near the coffee table, and waited for her further explanation. Liz quickly joined them, her expression torn between the desire to find out what her friend was up to and ending things before they had even begun; but she remained silent as Ava began sorting out the game pieces._

_"Dirty Scrabble, is nearly the same as regular Scrabble, in that you spell out words on the board for points," Ava explained, passing Liz and Michael a tile holder. "However, in this version, you spell out dirty words or sexual actions with your tiles."_

_Ava began tossing the tiles into the bag and then quickly pulled out seven tiles for herself before handing the bag to Liz, who copied the action. Liz then handed the bag to him and he pulled out seven letters and set them up on his holder, frowning at them as he tried to figure out his first potential word. Ava took the bag back and set it to the side before facing them, the sly gleam in her eyes brightening as she went over the rest of the rules._

_"The catch is - after spelling out the word, the person who created it, gets to dare another player to perform the action on the player of his or her choice. Meaning the creator's choice, [/i >not _the victim's choice."_ _

_Liz's cheeks flushed hotly once more at the last condition, but she remained silent as she meticulously set up her tiles, making Michael smirk with appreciation at how easily Ava unsettled his usually unflappable girlfriend with only a few words. Ava just giggled at the look Liz tossed them and began setting up her own tiles, completely certain of Liz's compliance to her game given her lack of reaction. Liz certainly hadn't fought the rules; and the implications of that shot a hot, spike of lust throughout his system._

_"Oh, and…" Ava continued matter of factly, her eyes glittering with anticipation as she leaned forward confidentially. "Changing the tiles with your powers to suit your needs is completely..." She paused for impact, and to allow a sly smile to tug at the corner of her mouth, before continuing in a husky voice. "Encouraged."_

_Michael grinned at that, rubbing his hands together as he studied his tiles and mentally made a few changes to them. He knew there was a reason he liked this girl._

... 

Michael came back to himself, his cock stirring at the memory before he shook his head clear of it and focused on the conversation at hand. He waited out the momentary silence that had fallen amongst his friends after his far-briefer-than-the-actual-memory explanation, (which went along the lines of, _'I played Dirty Scrabble with Ava and Liz last night, and found out that Liz digs chicks as much as she does dudes'_ ) and thought that maybe he had killed them with that blunt observation when finally they answered. 

**Max:** _You did WHAT?_

**Alex:** _So, let me get this straight; you played a dirty game with your girlfriend and one of the hottest chicks on the face of this earth, WITH said girlfriend's permission, and this is a crisis how?_

**Kyle:** _I literally fucking hate you so fucking much right now._

**Michael:** _Well..._

**Alex:** _Well what?_

**Kyle:** _So fucking much._

**Alex:** _Shut up, Kyle. Spit it out already._

**Michael:** _Well there's more._

**Max:** _MORE!?_

**Kyle:** _Hate, hate, HATE you_

Michael smirked at Kyle's ranting, knowing that he was never going to hear the end of this considering how uptight Isabel was in bed (not that he'd ever mention that aloud; he liked his balls right where they were thank you very much). And then he thought back to this morning's awakening with a cross between arousal and discomfort as he tried to explain where said game had led that night. 

... 

_Michael awoke slowly, keeping his eyes firmly sealed shut to the bright sunshine searing its way across his lids, and frowned as he became aware of two soft, feminine voices holding a conversation above his head. Where was he? Shifting uncomfortably when a bright, tinkling laugh flowed through the room, and inadvertently set his fried nerves, which were already grated raw by the hangover that had him nearly vowing off alcohol forever, on edge, Michael inhaled deeply, the scent of familiar sheets soothing his worries._

_So, he was at home then. What on Earth had happened last night?_

_Burying his face into his pillow, an action that halted the voices over his head momentarily; they paused for a moment before they went on when he didn't move again, which was fine by him. It was then that he became aware of the fact that he was nude, which in and of itself wasn't all that worrisome. He tended to sleep in the buff after all; but he had the niggling feeling that he was missing or had forgotten something pivotal about last night in his drunken haze._

_Shunting the merrily conversing voices aside for the moment, he thought back onto the night before, snuggling into the body to his left, almost drowning on the scent of strawberries, vanilla and_ Liz _. But there was something else, some new scent that teased his nose that spoke of rain and jasmine and…home. But not his home here on Earth, but of Antar. Furrowing his brow, he stretched out, and then froze when his hand hit another body, this time to the **right.**_

_Eyes popping open with alarm, Michael stared in utter disbelief at the scene that greeted him - for not only was Liz there, sitting completely in the buff, reading the front page and eating a donut; to his left sat a similarly undressed Ava, smoking a cigarette as she looked through the want ads._

_Mouth gaping, he inhaled sharply, the scent of cloves, jasmine and rain becoming clear as Ava took a hit off her cigarette (a special non-addictive blend that they had on Antar, and she replicated), and watched in stunned fascination as his girlfriend continued to blithely converse with their unexpected bed mate. What the hell?_

_Head reeling as it tried to catch up with the unfolding scene, Michael continued to watch in rapt fascination as Ava set aside the want ads, noting that there were several entries circled despite no pen being in sight, and took a drag off her cigarette before asking. "Can you pass me the funnies?"_

_Liz nodded absently, and obviously unaware that he had awakened, stuffed the donut she'd been eating in her mouth before leaning across the bed to shuffle through the stack of paper at her feet. Michael swallowed thickly as the edge of her tank lifted in the movement, baring a strip of golden skin, and absently licked his lips before turning back to the tantalizing tableau before him - an enticing study of light and dark as the girls put their heads together._

_Liz sat up and handed over the requested section to Ava, who, instead of grabbing it, pulled the donut out of Liz's mouth and replaced it with soft, full pink lips, sending a frisson of desire shooting down Michael's spine. And that's when it all came back to him - the dinner and drinks, and the funny conversation, followed by teasing, and the game, and more teasing, and bare skin, and girls kissing, and then **him** kissing both of **them** , and clothes disappearing, and then....yeah, well, and then._

_Breathing heavily, Michael nearly whimpered as Liz opened he mouth beneath that soft press of lips, flicking her tongue out to taste and tease the other girl's mouth, completely obliterating every coherent thought in his brain as she deepened the kiss. Pinching himself to make sure that this wasn't a spectacularly, fucking realistic dream, he winced as pain lanced through his arm, but the scene remained; and he couldn’t fucking believe his luck._

_Finally after several long moments, the girls pulled back and Ava nonchalantly bit into the donut while handing off her cigarette to Liz, who took it and handed her the funnies. Eyes wide, he silently watched as Liz, (who never smoked), took a drag of the remaining stub, and then stubbed it out before going back to the story she'd been reading; as if nothing unusual had happened. Taking a deep breath, Michael shook his head mentally, and then stumbled out of bed, a weird sense of panic overtaking him as he headed for the bathroom on the pretense of using it._

... 

**Michael:** _So, to recap, I woke up sandwiched between them, all of us naked, and they were just sharing a cigarette, a donut, and the paper like it was just some normal post-threesome Sunday brunch._

**Kyle:** _So, please confirm this for me - you have two incredibly hot, naked women in your bed, that you spent the entire night thoroughly debauching in a torrid threesome, **with** girl on girl sex mind you, and **YOU'RE** in the bathroom messaging us? _

**Michael:** _Yes._

**Kyle:** _Fuck you, Michael. Fuck **you** ; and the horse you rode in on. I'm going back to bed. Wake me up when there is real crisis to solve._

**Alex:** _Agreed. AND if you don't get your ass back into that room for a repeat, you will forever be a disgrace to mankind. I'll expect details tomorrow._

And with that pronouncement, his phone went silent. He had no idea where Max went off to, but he was certain that he was, more than likely, off pouting that Michael had now managed to snag not just one, but two, of his ex-flames; and both through no true intentions of his own. Rubbing a hand over his face, he did his business and then exited the bathroom to find gold and creamy skin entwined, snuggling together as they watched the bathroom door with amusement. 

"Done panicking and ready to join us again," Liz asked huskily, her eyes dancing as he made his way across the room. 

_Was he ready for a repeat?_

Hell fucking yeah. 

He was under strict orders to do so, after all; and he couldn't let the guys down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The texts used for this drabble were as follows:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> This I used verbatim: 
> 
>  
> 
> _I woke up sandwiched between them, all of us naked, and they were just sharing a cigarette, a donut, and the paper like it was just some normal post-threesome Sunday brunch._
> 
>  
> 
> These I hinted at and took some creative license with: 
> 
>  
> 
> _So, after six weeks of dating, she admitted she’s bi and asked if it would freak me out if we brought another girl into the bedroom. I said no in this hesitant voice and she said 'if you let me don’t worry I’ll make it up to you.'_
> 
>  
> 
> _I literally fucking hate you so fucking much._


	10. Four Dollar Felony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't feel that this 'drabble' lives up to the previous ones, but here we go. This was written for a challenge on another site, by the way, which had a requirement that the story had to take place in the Eraser Room. And since I _really_ didn't want to tempt the muse with yet another Roswell arc, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and use the entry for one of my current arcs. Plus I had several texts set aside that seemed to work well with the theme of the challenge. This is the result.

Maria yawned for what was probably the dozenth time that morning and rubbed tiredly at her eyes as she surveyed the scene before her. People were milling around, some rushing to put the finishing touches to their booths, and others lazily walking through the not quite open food and game area, hoping to beat the rush. Obviously these losers were of the 'early bird gets the worm' mentality, although just what they thought they were truly winning, she had no idea. It wasn't like there was anything here that couldn't be bought for a buck-fifty at her mother's store.

But to each their own, or something like that.

Personally, having lived here all her life, not to mention knowing real aliens, (and no they weren't green and three-feet tall with bulbous heads; they were actually quite attractive and you'd never know you were standing next to one unless you were in their special little club. But cool kids only.); she didn't see the attraction of the Crash Festival. The garish colors, the outrageous costumes, the (literally) out-of-this-world mythology some of these people came up with....really, people wasted far too much time on it in her opinion.

Shaking her head, Maria watched as an _'alien,_ dressed more like something out of an intergalactic porno, went up to a pretty teenage girl working the dunk tank, and stated he was from planet Xenopolis, and he was looking for volunteers to probe. The girl stared him down, not even twitching an eyebrow as he stood there fidgeting, growing more and more nervous as she simply didn't react; and then he slunk away, his metaphorical tail tucked firmly between his legs, before perking up as he spotted his next victim.

"Better luck next time, kid. God, and to think I once thought this event couldn't get any tackier," Maria muttered, turning away from the chaotic scene, only to be met with her red-faced and irritated best friend. Well at least she wasn't the only one feeling a bit disgruntled at being here.

"I still don't know how I got rooked into this," Liz muttered under her breath, shoving an errant strand of hair behind one ear as she lifted yet another box of supplies out of the van and carted it into the tent. Huffing, she set it down next to the other supplies, and then flashed Maria an irritated frown as she wiped her brow of the light sweat that had gathered there, griping testily. "I don't even work here anymore."

Maria suppressed a laugh, knowing full on why the other woman was there, and it had nothing to do with her actually helping with the Crash Down booth and everything to do with her boyfriend's pervy, little mind. The things she did for friendship. Michael better damn well make good on his promises for her assistance in dragging Liz here, or she was going to find a way to zap his ass, powers or not. A girl had needs; and since she'd currently hit a dry spell, that promised two-pound box of chocolate and spa day were the best kind of consolation prize.

"That's the _'blessing'_ of being the owner's daughter, and the boss man's kept woman, chica," Maria replied breezily, smirking at the dark look her best friend shot her. No one would ever truly call Liz a leech; the girl had worked hard for the full scholarship that she was riding. Not to mention that Michael had been paying for their house on his own long before Liz had even moved in, and he didn't seem to mind continuing in the same vein while Liz focused on school. But she couldn't resist ruffling her friend's feathers, especially after Liz's part in the flag incident. "Plus, I think it had something to do with a promise that involved silk ties, chocolate and..."

"Okay," Liz cried, drawing the word out a bit as she cast a surreptitious glance at the far-too-interested volunteers surrounding them, all just dying for some juicy tidbit to share with their friends. Even after months of dating, people were still fascinated by the idea of the school bookworm dating the class bad boy. Liz shot her a quelling glance, slicing her hand across her neck in a cutting motion, hissing under her breath. "I think that's enough of that."

Maria just snickered and turned away, wholeheartedly amused at the flush of color sweeping across her friend's cheeks, but quieted nonetheless. Shooting a glance at a particularly nosy bunch hovering by the entrance to the tent, she coolly raised a brow and watched as they scurried away to continue unloading the van. Smirking again, (and she'd been doing a lot of that today), she began counting out the money for the two remote registers they'd set up the day before, letting the hum and chatter of vendors setting up wash over her. She'd been helping with the Crash Festival for as long as she could remember, and although she didn't work at the diner anymore, when Jeff came to her, begging her to be a shift manager, she hadn't had the heart to tell him no.

After all, they were family, blood-related or not. And family helped family.

Sighing as she continued to count out the drawers, Maria startled when her phone chirped, bringing the message she'd been waiting for:

_Send in the prey._

Rolling her eyes, she internally groaned at Michael's description of Liz and then quickly typed back, keeping a wary eye on the _'prey'_ herself; luckily she didn't really need to manufacture a reason to get Liz in the school, as she'd _'forgotten'_ to pick up the sign the art kids had made for their booth when she came down yesterday to oversee set up.

 

_I can't believe you're doing this; what if you get caught._

Tapping her phone against her mouth she waited until it beeped again.

_You know me; I never turn down an adventure. My life is like a sexual Lord of the Rings._

Maria huffed, just barely quelling her laughter as she glanced at Liz, who was visibly wilting under the oppressive New Mexican sun and muttering viciously under her breath that Michael owed her for this. (And wasn't that an interesting suggestion; one she was sure would be illegal in most states, if it were even viably possible.) Smacking her hand against her forehead, she let out an irritated growl.

"Oh shoot!"

"What?" Liz asked, halting her very creative string of insults and suggestions for what Michael could do to look up at Maria with a worried gaze. "What is it?"

"I forgot the price sign that the kids made for us up in the art room," Maria said, chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes darting around the tent as if trying to figure out how she was going to get the sign and get everything else done in time, before landing back on Liz imploringly. "Would you be a dear and grab that for me?"

"Maria," Liz hissed caustically, clearly a bit exasperated as she set aside the box she'd been carrying before turning and fixing Maria with a pointed look. "Why can't you do it?"

"I can't. I'm in the middle of getting the drawers ready." Maria gestured to the drawers she truly had been counting out, and then fixed a pout on her lips. "Please, Lizzie? Pretty please with Tabasco on top."

"Ugh, fine," Liz huffed, her gaze narrowing suspiciously even as she spun on her heel to stalk out of the tent. "Just...never call me that again."

Maria nodded emphatically, doing her best to look innocent, and waved her off, watching until she was lost in the crowd and then sent Michael a text.

_She's on her way, Space Boy; try not to break her._

_Oh, but we could do so many fantastic illegal things together. sexually and otherwise._

Way too much information, Space Boy.

_Right, try not to commit a felony that costs more than 4 dollars cause that is all I have in my bail jar._

Slipping her phone into her back pocket, Maria hummed under breath and continued with her duties, putting the two deviants that called themselves her friends out of her mind.

Like she needed yet another reminder of her own lacking love life.

~

"Honestly, that girl would forget her own head if it weren't attached," Liz muttered as she stalked towards the school, swiping an impatient hand over her brow to wipe away the sweat that clung to it.

It was bad enough that she was practically slave labor, coerced into working the festival by the combined force that were her father's puppy dog eyes and Michael's pout. (Seriously, the two together should be classified as a weapon of mass destruction given the devastation they left in their wake; especially Michael's pout. That had been a level of cruelty that she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.)

But now, she'd been talked into an errand that she was certain was nothing more than a wild goose chase at the behest of her best friend (And what was it with them all ganging up on her lately?). Maria was not as sly as she liked to think. In fact, Liz would say she was as subtle as a sledgehammer. She'd seen each and every devious look the blonde had sent her way that morning, but chose to ignore them in favor of getting the damned job done so she could get out of this God forsaken heat.

So, she'd suffered through her friend's far too obvious scheming in silence, entertaining herself with thoughts on each and every favor she intended to extract from Michael in repayment for putting up with this nonsense. (Because the Crash Festival, in her old uniform, really? She'd nipped that travesty in the bud before her father caught wind of the idea and latched onto it as a cute way to advertise. Not amused, Michael.) Besides, Liz figured that she would find out what exactly Maria was up to soon enough as the irrepressible blonde couldn't keep a secret to save her life.  
But, whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't this.

Maria's excuse to get her into the school had been flimsier than tissue paper and twice as see through; it really hadn't been necessary to send _Liz_ on an errand so mindless. Maria could have easily given the task to one of her many minions, most of whom had been standing around, gossiping with their equally mindless friends, and allowed Liz to get some [i]real[/i] work done. It was patently obvious that Maria wanted Liz in the school, and away from the booth, at this specific moment.

She just couldn't fathom _why._

Slipping through the double doors that lead to the art and humanities rooms, Liz sighed in relief as cool air swirled around her, chilling and pebbling her overheated skin. At the very least, if she were forced to go on this pointless errand, there was this - any respite from what had been a week long heat wave was a blessing no matter Maria's end game. She'd gladly stay in here for the rest of the day if meant not sweating like a pig in a bacon factory.

And _that_ was a _lovely_ piece of imagery, was it not?

God, she'd been hanging around Michael and Kyle far too often lately.

Liz strode quietly down the hall, grumbling under her breath and tugged at one of the straps to her halter, lifting it off her neck, allowing the sweat-kissed skin beneath it to breathe and hopefully dry. She really wished she had the courage to walk straight through the building and keep heading out to the parking lot and into her car and then finally home. Honestly, she could think of about a million things she'd rather being doing, including, but not limited to, getting a root canal.

She'd never signed up for this.

But...but that would leave Michael to his own devices, and the customers at the mercy of his _oh-so-charming_ nature. And _that_ would lead to bad things all around. There was a reason her father had requested her presence - while Michael was an amazing cook, an absolute genius when it came to the grill, his customer service skills were...lacking to put it mildly. Left on his own, or worse with just Maria (who was far too good at pressing his buttons)...well the less said on that matter the better. Just note that Michael and giggling, babbling, bubbly teenagers just did not mesh well and it was far better for everyone involved that she handled the customer service side.

Rubbing at the back of her neck, Liz dropped the strap and turned down a long, dimly lit corridor, and then squeaked (something she'd adamantly deny at a later date) when a hand shot out of nowhere, grabbed her firmly around the wrist and dragged into a closet, plunging her into darkness.

"What the hell," she huffed in irritation, wrenching her arm away from her captor and scrambled for the door, only to have it slam closed in her face, trapping her in the closet with whatever joker had pulled her in. Growling under her breath, she scampered away, tripping over chairs and tables and other things she couldn't see, in an effort to put distance between her and her captor until her eyes adjusted to the low light.

Leaning against a table behind a stack of boxes, Liz drew a deep breath and held it, slowing her rapidly beating heart in order to hear who was scuffling through the room in pursuit of her. She couldn't feel anything off about the person, and her enhanced senses (all thanks to Max's healing) would have let her know if the other person had evil intent. But at the same time, she could also tell they were actively blocking her, and that didn't bode well; as while there was a very limited number of people aware of her abilities, not all of them were friendly.

Blinking rapidly, wishing her pupils would dilate faster, Liz peeked around the corner of said boxes and narrowed her blurry eyes, sighing again as she finally made out a familiar profile; but this time it was the sigh of a long-suffering girlfriend.

"Michael," she frowned, and crossing her arms over her chest, she slipped out into the open and stared the smirking man in front of her down. "I should have known. This little adventure had your fingerprints all over it. Do I even want to know?"

Michael merely smiled; that sharp, wicked grin that had things she'd rather not mention clenching low in her belly, and sent her heart thrumming staccato against her breast in anticipation as he sauntered towards her. Licking her lips nervously, Liz fidgeted under that enigmatic gaze, her mouth running dry as it always did when faced with her boyfriend's effortless, fluid sensuality; which just made those things she didn't want to think of heat and purr in contentment as he drew near.

Didn't he have any idea how he was affecting her?

And then his smile grew and Liz huffed at her own inane question. What had she been thinking; of course he knew.

A thought that was only confirmed by the unbearably smug expression that graced said boyfriend's face when her breath hitched and shook as she exhaled. Narrowing her gaze further, Liz drew herself up, not about to be intimidated by whatever game Michael was playing, and arched a brow pointedly, completely ignoring his low chuckle at her fronting.

Yeah, the smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

"Well," she prompted, growing impatient with the silence stretching between them.

"I'd be quiet if I were you, Parker," Michael smirked, making her frown deepen. There was something off in his tone. Something that had her pausing, and reminded her all too well of the caustic, guarded boy she'd first met. Before they'd grown to respect one another. Before they'd become friends. Before they'd fallen in love and became each other's everything.

Drawing back a touch, Liz studied Michael's face, a suspicious light growing in her eyes.

"After all, we wouldn't want the whole school to hear."

Okay, she hadn't expected that.

"The whole school," Liz stated flatly, knowing full well that the school was empty given it was Saturday, and those few that were here, were out on the athletic field setting up for the festival and getting ready for the opening ceremonies.

"Of course," Michael replied, a bit too gleefully for Liz's taste, and then shot her a wicked grin that she felt all the way down to her toes. "Little Lizzie Parker, all alone in the Eraser Room with the town delinquent. What ever will they think?"

So, that was his game.

"Deviant," she laughed huskily, her stomach jolting with lust as he drew near, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

They had discussed this once or twice; roleplaying that is, but they'd never gotten past just that - a discussion of their fantasies. She really should have expected this however, as Michael seemed to have more than his fair share of fantasies of her high school self.

And she got it; she really did.

He'd genuinely loved Maria, and wouldn't have even considered doing anything that would've jeopardized their relationship; but at the end of the day, he had been a teenage boy with more hormones than sense, and she had been the epitome of the good, little schoolgirl that every boy wanted to defile in his mind.

Not that it had been true in the least; but she got that reality and fantasy didn't really match, with fantasy often winning out over the mundane truth.

"This surprises you?" Michael replied, a cheeky grin flashing across his face for a brief moment before it slid into something a touch more predatory.

"Not at all," Liz replied just as flippantly, and then gave a mocking sniff. "Just reaffirming an irrefutable truth."

"It's too bad you aren't wearing one of those prim little skirts you favored in high school," Michael purred, one hand palming her bare thigh and sliding up it slowly as he flicked an appreciative glance over her halter-and-shorts-clad frame, sending a shiver tingling down her spine. "I spent many a class period imagining you in here, your skirt bunched up at your waist as I ripped off your pretty little panties."

Liz gave a stuttering breath, inhaling sharply at the words, murmured in a low, dark rasp against her ear as Michael crowded her, bringing the faint scent of wood and spice and something vaguely citrusy with them. Groaning internally, her lashes fluttered shut and her heart jumped as an arm snaked out and cinched around her waist, dragging her further against the hard line of his body.

God, she loved when he got this way; all possessive and predatory. It was enough to make her weak-kneed and slick in a place best not mentioned.

"I'll bet they were cotton, weren't they?" Michael continued, teasing the line of her jaw with his lips, his hand sliding further up her thigh, fingering the frayed edge of her faded jean shorts before sliding under it as he pressed her into the stack of boxes she'd been hiding behind. "Plain, every day, white cotton, to go with your prim little skirts."

Liz gasped as fingers played with the hem, tracing the soft skin beneath them and then bit her lip, desperately fighting the urge to do unspeakable things to the man in front of her. It wouldn't do to give in too soon, as she was certain some of the fantasy was in her putting up at least a token fight. Narrowing her gaze at the taunt, she opened her mouth to retort when one deft finger slipped up, tracing the edge of her panties, and then her mind short-circuited, her breath leaving her lungs in a rush as Michael's lips crashed against hers.

_Unfair._

~

Michael's lips curled, the smirk pasted on them deepening at that plaintive accusation; one he was certain he wasn't meant to hear, and mumbled against his mouth just before he cut off any other response Liz could make. He knew that if he let her overthink it, she'd get nervous with their far too public venue, which is why he didn't give her time to process or protest beyond that one whispered complaint.

Sinking one hand into her hair, he gave a gentle tug (something he knew she secretly loved), pulling her head back for better access to her mouth and neck and loved the little gasp of surprise that spilled out as he continued to nip and tease and taunt, promising wickedness and sin if she just gave in. Which she would; it was inevitable.

Tracing her bottom lip, Michael snaked his tongue past it, and curled it around hers, stroking, and teasing her mouth with deep, slick thrusts that left them both breathless; ones that unconsciously mimicked an act he'd rather be doing, but figured she wouldn't allow.

Not that it'd stop him from trying.

Crushing her closer, he made to move somewhere more comfortable, and then startled and stumbled as his foot caught on the leg of something, inadvertently pressing them deeper into the boxes, creating a shelf as the boxes edged back, and bringing their hips into proper alignment. That worked. Grinning, he buried his hips into the cradle of her body, rolling them slightly and groaned internally as her body arched, grinding against him helplessly.

He so loved when she was uninhibited.

Hissing as denim scraped harshly against denim, creating a friction that was equal parts pain and pleasure, Michael ripped his mouth from hers, to nip at her the curve of her neck. Sinking his teeth into the flesh above her pulse, his head swam, leaving him feeling a touch giddy and faint as his hands slid over her body, molding and shaping soft, pliant skin, drawing a that dazed look, hazy with a lust that left him aching, and smug.

All in all, he was feeling rather pleased with himself.

That is, until she shook her head, clearing it, her gaze narrowed and sharp, and he just knew she was going to get sassy with him.

"Is that it?" Liz drawled, pinning him a decidedly unimpressed look, although he could see a hint of laughter lurking in her eyes. Narrowing his, he arched one brow and studied her upturned face, just waiting for it. "So far, you've been nothing but talk, Guerin. What would your mindless fans say if they knew you couldn't deliver..."

And there it was.

"Really?" Michael deadpanned, giving his fiancée an equally unimpressed look, but he couldn't hide his own humor at her words. When he was younger, a comment like that would've had him scowling and pinning her to the nearest surface and...wait why wasn't he pinning her to the nearest surface? Wasn't that part of the plan?

"You go for the obvious low blow?" he continued, watching her skeptically.

"I'm not the one still flapping his lips," Liz smirked, looking far too smug for someone in her predicament. "So far all I've gotten is big talk and no action. I'm...disappointed."

So, that's how she wanted to play it? He was game.

"I'll show you all talk..." Michael muttered and then grabbed her around the hips, hitching Liz up his body so suddenly that she squeaked and flailed, scrabbling for hold until she managed to latch onto his shoulders as he spun them and roughly shoved her against the wall. Now who was all talk?

"And you accused me of being clichéd..." Liz sniffed disdainfully, and then bit her lip, head tipped back, lashes fluttering as she (very obviously) attempted to hold back a small whimper when he settled back against her, rolling his hips sinuously.

Michael tossed her another smug smile, chuckling darkly when she quickly opened her eyes and glared at him, almost as if she sensed it (which she likely had given her powers), and squirmed in an attempt to get free; but it was a weak thing at best and he knew that he'd soon have her writhing for a different reason altogether. Opening his mouth to tell her so, he cringed and then blinked rapidly when the door of the Eraser Room flew open, flooding the tiny room with light.

"Christ," a deep, exasperated voice muttered from the open door. "Seriously?"

Michael blinked a few more times, his sight blurring around the edges as they watered from the bright light, and then groaned internally when they cleared enough to reveal Principal Forester hovering in the doorway with a deep frown. He had been certain that the other man would be out on the athletic field at this time given the fact that he typically said a few words at the opening of the festival.

"Oh, um, hello, Principal Forester," Liz greeted sheepishly, her cheeks pink as she tried to smooth her hair back; and he had to give her credit for not cowering in front of their former principal despite how debauched she must look.

"Aren't you two a little old for this?" Principal Forester replied, a long-suffering expression pasted on his face as dark, exasperated eyes danced between the two of them. He paused. "And have an apartment of your own to defile?"

"Sorry, Principal Forester," Liz apologized meekly, disentangling herself from Michael's embrace to smooth and straighten clothing. "We were just..."

"I know what you were just," Principal Forester said, his tone as dry as the Sahara, and Michael now had to give [i]him[/i] credit - it wasn't often that someone could make him feel like an errant teenager, despite having been graduated for over five years now. A fact the other man emphasized with his next comment. "Didn't I get rid of you years ago, Guerin?"

"Well you know me," Michael replied cheekily, given the other man a jaunty salute.

"Yes, like a bad penny," Principal Forester sighed, and Michael could hear him mentally rolling his eyes before he turned to Liz with brows raised. "And you, Miss Parker; I thought you'd learned your lesson last time I found you in here..."

"Uh, yeah. Um...right," Liz murmured, her cheeks still aflame as she scuffed her sandal against the concrete (and really, he had to admire Forester's ability to make them feel like chastened children; he wondered if the man could teach him how he did that. He had some minions back at the booth that would benefit from such a super power.) Liz looked up, her lip clenched between her teeth as she edged around Michael and headed towards the door. "We'll just...we'll just go now."

And with those hastily muttered words, Liz fled out the door.

Principal Forester watched her scurry away for a moment before turning back to Michael with a pointed look; one he returned with another cheeky grin before sauntering past him and out the door to catch up with Liz, barely holding back a chuckle as he heard the principal shut the door firmly and walk down the hall muttering.

"Honestly, as if I don't have enough trouble with their younger counterparts, now I have to deal with this? I'm getting too old for this shit."

Michael continued to walk down the hall to where Liz was leaning against some lockers, her head bent, staring at her shoes as if they were the most interesting things since molecular manipulation. Coming to a standstill in front of her, Michael waited until she looked up, heated cheeks and all, her lips twitching as if fighting a grin; and then they stared at each other for a long moment before bursting into peals of laughter.

"Well that was a dose of realism that I hadn't anticipated," Michael snickered, sagging into the lockers at her side, gasping for air as she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.

"Oh God, how embarrassing," Liz choked, then leaned against the lockers with a sigh. "Well, at least I won't have to deal with my mother being called this time."

Michael smiled, leaning down to press a kiss on her head, still chuckling himself. Pulling her into his arms, he pressed his face against the silky locks, reveling in the scent of strawberry and vanilla and home, and just enjoyed the feel of her. Things hadn't gone quite as he planned, but any moment with her was one he cherished.

"So, I should get that sign," Liz said after a moment, pulling away reluctantly. Looking up at him, she smiled. "See you back at the booth?"

"Yeah, I better get there before Maria manages to burn the tent down," Michael replied, placing a kiss on her temple before pushing away from the lockers; a little painfully as things hadn't quite calmed down on his end.

Watching as she turned and headed down the hallway, he smiled when she glanced over her shoulder before turning the corner to head towards the art room; then he too turned, grimacing as the motion had his jeans cutting across things far too sensitive at the moment. Reaching down, he adjusted himself and then hissed when the touch only aggravated the problem instead of cooling it.

Frowning, he looked at the bathroom door down the hall wondering if had time to take care of said problem before going out to the booth; it was going to be a miserable walk otherwise and dealing with people when he was sexually frustrated probably wasn't the best idea. Mind made up, Michael headed for the bathroom and then paused as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he smirked when he saw Liz's name, along with a pending text message.  
Pressing the button to accept, he sucked in a harsh breath and stared at the message; and then stared some more, his body tightening and flushing with heat at the words:

_Sex in the moonbounce later?_

Michael's mouth ran dry, and he had to close his eyes for a moment, his hand clenched around his phone in an effort to quell the urge to run down the hall and finish what they'd started in the Eraser Room. He really didn't want to test Principal Forester's patience, which would likely result in an arrest at this point; or, at the very least, lead to him and Liz being lectured on lewd public behavior at Sheriff's office. And, yeah, no. He was so not having that conversation with the midget's father, no matter how amused Valenti would be at their antics.

Drawing a steadying breath, he glanced back down at his phone; and yes, the words were still there. There were so many reasons why he should say no to this and only one reason to say yes. Thankfully, his dick won that debate. Quickly typing a message back, he wondered just how much it would cost if they both needed to be bailed out tonight.

_This is why I love you._

_Meet you there at 7?_

_Make it 8. Everyone should be at the concert then._

_Excellent. I have a treat for you. Bought it the other day while I was at Taboo._

Michael's mind stalled once more as he read the name of their favorite adult-themed store. Dear God, he loved this woman; she was going to end up killing him one day, but what a way to go. Shooting back an affirmative, Michael staggered down the hall to the bathroom (he definitely had a problem to take care of now), and pausing at the door, shot another message to Maria before unlocking it with his powers and stumbling in.

_Think $4 will cover public indecency?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts used in this 'drabble':
> 
>  **1.** I never turn down an adventure. My life is like a sexual Lord of the Rings.
> 
>  **2.** but we could do so many fantastic illegal things together. sexually and otherwise.
> 
>  **3.** Right, try not to commit a felony that costs more than 4 dollars cause that is all I have in my bail jar.
> 
> and finally -
> 
>  **4.** Sex in the moonbounce later?
> 
> This is why I love you.


	11. Maracas?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tess confronts Monk the day after...

****

Maracas?

Tess hummed quietly to herself as she walked down the aisle, one finger tapping against her mouth as she studied the goods before. She didn't really _need_ anything today, but when the choice was between listening to Alex and Kyle whine and moan their way through their hangovers and doing a little retail therapy - well, the latter always won. Plus, she deserved something nice after the previous evening.

Sighing, she set aside the cobalt blue and aquamarine tea pot that she was looking at (after all, she was the only one who drank tea of her friends - heathens that all preferred coffee, and typically black coffee at that, over the complex blends of tea - and she already had one too many at home), and turned the corner to the next aisle, pausing when she caught sight of a familiar face.

Drawing back, she hid behind a clearance sign and picked up the nearest box, pretending to study - she looked at the words on the box, a Wusthof Gourmet twelve-piece knife set with block apparently - but really her eyes where all for the befuddled man down the aisle. Dark hair flopped over his forehead and framed his face as he rubbed a hand over a neat little goatee and continued to look between the list in his hand and the boxes in front of him with utter confusion.

Tess couldn't help but smirk at his apparent bewilderment at trying to decipher his wife, Vicki's, note and thought back to their conversation the night before, silently laughing at his complete and utter panic at having lost Alex for a few minutes. A remembrance that also brought this morning's mystery to mind.

 

_"Why are there maracas in the dishwasher?" Tess asked, a light note of confusion coloring her tone as she turned to face Alex and held up one brightly patterned, green, blue and purple maraca. To say that they were hurting that morning would be an understatement, a fact cemented as her boyfriend barely managed to pry one eye open to look at her, before it quickly shut with a whimper._

_"Don’t look at me…" Alex muttered, his face nearly as pale as the quilt he was bundled under. "The last thing I remember is ordering pitchers of White Russians...."_

_"What did you..." Tess started, a frown crossing her face as she wondered just what her idiot boys had been up too that night. Last she had heard, they were going to Coldbrews, a popular sports bar. Nothing about that screamed maracas. But then something else caught her attention. "Wait...they serve White Russians in pitchers?"_

_"Yup," Alex replied, popping the 'p' at the end, and then gave a little grunt as he turned his head, sending it swimming once more._

_"And you thought this was a good idea because..." Tess probed, wondering what on Earth they had been thinking._

_"It made sense at the time," Alex shrugged, wincing as that jostled his throbbing head._

_"Right," Tess drawled, sending him an exasperated glance as she set the maraca aside and then pulled out its mate, perversely tossing it at the two huddled forms on the couch, smirking when the loud rattling made both Alex and Kyle cringe. "I'm amazed you're not in the hospital with alcohol poisoning."_

_"Hey, we were totally in control; we stopped after a pitcher each," Kyle defended, only quelling a bit under Tess' unimpressed look, before mumbling. "We decided that the paper cups disintegrating was Buddha’s way of telling us we had had enough."_

_"That sounds more likely," Tess agreed, filling the dishwasher as noisily as possible. Honestly, if the idiots were going to do something so stupid, they deserved the pain their idiocy inflicted. "I really need to stop letting you off your leash."_

_"And on that note, how is it that I keep meeting up with you when I'm drunk?" Kyle piped up, staring at Alex through one blurry eye._

_"You stand on my porch screaming my name until I come out with you..." Alex stated, kicking out at Kyle as he moved, and completely missing in his hungover lack of coordination. " Seriously, cats in heat sound better than your whining. I go just to shut you up. I really need to start ignoring you, or tell Isabel to invest in a muzzle."_

_"Hey!" Kyle exclaimed, his head shooting up a he momentarily forgot his hangover in an attempt to defend himself, and then groaned, falling off the couch to lay in an unhappy heap on the floor, vowing vengeance when he could move again._

 

Tess smiled at the memory before fixating back onto the man in front of her; perhaps she could get an answer to the mystery maracas here.

"Monk," Tess purred, a sweet smile sliding her across her face as the man startled and jumped, and then slowly turned around. He looked off balance, his face drawn and cheeks ashen even as he smiled warily in return; and she couldn't help giggling a little on the inside knowing that his sickly appearance had nothing to do with a hangover and everything to do with panic. "Just the man I've been looking for."

"Hey Tess," Monk returned, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly, his eyes dancing everywhere but at her. "How have you been?

"Fantastic," she grinned, absently stroking a finger over knife set in her hands, noting the way Monk blanched further as he stared at her hands. She should really feel bad about that; she knew that everything that happened wasn't likely his fault, but she couldn't help the evil glee that bubbled inside at his reaction. "So, I hear you had quite the night."

"Yeah, really sorry about that," Monk explained hastily, one eye still trained on the box. "I tried to talk them into staying put, but it was either go along with them and make sure they don't kill themselves or have them wander off on their own."

"Oh, I get it," Tess agreed, nodding her head as she set the box aside, almost feeling bad about manipulating him. Almost. "Seriously. I know what they are like when they get drunk. Any idea, no matter how lame, sounds good. And other than the monumental hangover he's been nursing this morning, Alex didn't get hurt; so no harm, no foul."

"Yeah, I just talked to Kyle, and he sounded a little green around the gills," Monk huffed nervously, relaxing his guard a touch now that she didn't have sharp implements in her hands.

"He is," Tess laughed softly, explaining when she caught his curious glance. "He's currently nursing his woes on my couch as Isabel locked him out last night."

"Ouch," Monk winced, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Now I feel bad just dropping him off on the curb. Did he..."

"He ended up stumbling to our place about an hour after you dropped Alex off, wailing out his troubles like a cat in heat," Tess smirked, rolling her eyes. "While his father has vocal talent, it definitely skipped a generation."

"Yeah," Monk laughed, the tension easing out of his shoulders at her amicable quip. Tess smirked internally, _the better to disarm you with, my dear._ "I bore witness to his, Michael's and Alex's pathetic attempts at harmony in the car last night. They definitely should _not_ quit their day jobs."

"Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for wrangling the Troublesome Trio," Tess grinned. "And making sure they got home safely."

"Of course," Monk nodded, relief crossing over his features when he realized she wasn't going to get on his case about leading the Merry, Drunken Men on whatever mischief they got into last night. She didn't bother with that as she was certain she'd hear about it before long. Roswell wasn't that big of a town, and people did love to gossip. However...

"There is one thing that has me curious however..." she added, gleefully drawing the sentence out as Monk froze much like a deer in the headlights.

~

Monk froze down to a cellular level, a thin trick of sweat sliding down his spine as he faced the petite, angelic-looking blonde smiling oh-so-prettily at him and wondered what he had ever done in a past life to deserve this. He had always been the quiet sort; a person that remained in the background and was often overlooked for his more rambunctious, outgoing siblings. In high school, he had been practically a ghost, more concerned with his books than getting involved.

In fact, the only reason he had started working at Metachem was it allowed him the chance to go to school during the day, and gave him the opportunity to work on his homework at night. He had a solid plan. Keep his head down and eye on the goal, get through school, get his bio-engineering degree, and then apply for a better position within the company. His five-year plan also included marrying the girl of his dreams, (and he was still stunned that pretty, smart, sassy Vicki Delaney even looked twice at him and he thanked his stars daily that she had), establishing himself in the company and starting a family. 

It hadn't included drunken hijinks that included aliens and metahumans whose tolerances were practically nothing and running around in the dead of night causing mischief and mayhem.

And then he'd met Michael.

That had turned out to be both a blessing and a curse.

"Uh, what's that?" Monk asked nervously, feeling his right eye twitch just slightly under the pleasantly impassive expression on Tess' face. Never let it be said that sweetness and light couldn't be downright scary as hell. Because it could. And it _was_ on the woman standing in front of him.

"When I was loading the dishwasher this morning," Tess paused, giving an innocent smile that he didn't believe for one second. He'd seen that smile before, beaming out at him from the sweet, cherished, pink lips of his wife, and it was anything but innocent. "I stumbled upon a set of maracas that I know weren't there yesterday."

"Oh." Monk frowned, momentarily thrown off by the comment. That...that hadn't been what he'd been expecting when Tess said that; and then he winced internally, vividly recalling the events that had lead up to the acquisition of said maracas. " _Oh, those._ "

"Yes, those," Tess smirked, tapping a finger against her lips as she arched one brow. "Care to explain?"

"Uh, well," Monk stumbled, wondering just how much he should say. He really didn't want to rat out his friend, but at the same time, he really preferred living without extreme pain. Besides, after the hell Alex and the others had put him through last night, they deserved a little comeuppance of their own. "It was like this."

 

_Monk searched the growing crowd with annoyance, trying to spot his friends, whom he'd gotten separated from in the new rush of people. They had come to Coldbrews for some downtime; to simply have a drink and watch the game. Well, really, he and Alex were going to have a drink and talk, while Kyle and Michael watched the game. What they hadn't been anticipating was a birthday party being thrown in the backroom and thus the typically relaxed sports bar was a wall to wall mass of people all with intent on getting drunk off their asses._

_This typically wouldn't bother him. It wasn't_ his _idea of a great time, but to each their own. What did bother him in this case, was he was well aware of how easily a certain person who should_ not _be drinking, could be talked into doing so, (not that he was mentioning any names - Kyle), due to a certain physiology change. And then this person would rashly spike the drink of the others._

_A definite nightmare in the making._

_It was one thing if they were all drinking at one of their homes. At least then, if anything quirky (read alien power related) happened, it was around people who wouldn't freak out and run, potentially outing them. It was another to have them drinking in public, where they forgot these things. And it made him nervous that he couldn't find his charges._

_Finally breaking through the crowd, Monk sighed in relief when he caught sight of his wayward friends, all standing near the dart board, with Michael and Kyle playing darts, each with a drink in hand. Alex sat in a corner, smiling soppily at some pretty redhead, who was watching him with faint amusement._

_It looked tame from a distance, but given how accurately Michael was landing his darts, Monk was fairly certain that he was cheating with his powers. Narrowing his eyes, Monk studied Michael carefully, noting the minute flick of his hand that precluded a spike of his powers. Sighing internally, Monk rubbed a hand over his face wearily, and looked around. Nobody seemed to be paying attention or had noticed anything unusual, and as it was subtle power manipulation, he wasn't going to complain._

_Better that than walking around the streets, lighting up parking meters like sparklers._

_Yes, he had heard about Max's adventure just after discovering Michael's secret; which occurred when they had been drinking one night and weird things started happening._

_Shaking his head, Monk strode toward the others, intent on getting them out of there before something more inexplicable could happen, and then paused in horror when he got close enough to hear what Alex was saying._

_"Those sure are some pretty maracas" Alex said, swaying dangerously as he looked down at the redhead, a loose smile on his lips. "I really like 'em."_

_"What?" the girl demanded, startled, a touch of anger flickering in her eyes as she stared at Alex incredulously. Monk winced at the words, certain Alex (who was very much in love with Tess) meant no harm by them, but even he was having difficulty understanding what he meant other than the potential innuendo. Hastening his pace, Monk strode over to them, hoping to smooth the waters and prevent his friend from getting a sound smack across the face._

_"My Tessie's favorite colors," Alex enthused, pointing at something in the girl's lap. Monk halted in front of the duo, now confused and trying to figure out what the other man was talking about. "She likes blue, green and purple. I wonder if she'd like some herself."_

_"What?_ OH! _" the redhead replied, comprehension suddenly dawning in her eyes as they flicked to her lap, a faint flush of embarrassment tinting her cheeks. She held one maraca aloft, waving it in front of Alex's face, chuckling softly when Alex dizzily followed the movement. "You really meant the maracas. I thought...nevermind. Your Tessie?"_

_"She's my little spitfire," Alex nodded happily, contentment at home on his face._

_"Your...girlfriend?" the redhead guessed with a soft smile._

_"Yup," Alex stated, popping the p in the end, and then looked around shiftily before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially. "I'm gonna marry her one day. But don't tell her. It's a surprise."_

_"That's sweet," the redhead cooed and continued giggling at Alex's antics._

_"She is," Alex agreed, a goofy smile etched into his face."My sweet, little spitfire. She's the best."_

_Monk smiled, and rolled his eyes, joining his friends as the girl, whose name turned out to be Anna, continued asking Alex about Tess._

 

"He kind of followed her around the rest of the night," Monk fondly admitted.

"Did he?" Tess asked, her tone and face inscrutable.

"It really isn't as bad as it sounds," Monk assured, eyes flicking to the blonde, alarm slamming through him at the lack of tone. It made it hard to tell what the blonde was thinking. "It really wasn't." He paused to look at Tess, but she still wasn't giving anything away. "Actually if you think about it, it was kind of pathetic. 

Monk winced when all Tess did was lift a brow and continue to stare at him. "And adorable really. Yes, absolutely adorable. He was like a big, happy puppy and spent the entire time babbling on about you. She sort of adopted him and made him a mascot and..."

"Exactly how is that not as bad as it sounds?" Tess queried skeptically, but her expression remained placid. "You just told me my pseudo-fiancé, which thanks for that by the way, good to know what he's thinking; but you just told me that my boyfriend spent the entire night following some other girl around like a puppy dog, after babbling on about her maracas."

Monk twitched. Just a little under that bland gaze, knowing full well that bland by no means meant safe or was, in any way, shape or form, bland at all. It was usually a prelude to bad things. Very. Bad. Things. Especially when this pint-sized, blonde Goddess and her brethren were involved. And faced with the choice of further pleading his friend's case or saving his own neck, he did the only sensible thing.

"Please don't kill me..." he pleaded.

She'd eventually forgive Alex. Him on the other hand...

They stood there for a long, silent moment before the blonde relented and smiled, a knowing twinkle entering her eyes. 

"Well, you did bring him back in one piece," Tess sniggered, and he cursed when he caught that twinkle, which told him that she'd been playing him all along. Sometimes, he really wished he had told Michael to stay the hell away from him when they first met. 

His heart really couldn't handle these fluctuations. 

But then, if it weren't for Michael, he would have never met Vicki.

Rock meet hard place. It really sucked sometimes.

"I'll let it slide," Tess continued as she walked towards him, taking the list out of his hand, and studied it with a lilting laugh; one that sound like bells, but sent a small chill down his spine nonetheless. Handing it back to him, she walked over to the appropriate utensil - and honestly, what the hell is a zester - grabbed it and handed it to him. 

"This time," she smirked, and he swore her eyes glinted just a little evilly when she did.

"You are as merciful as you are beautiful, my Queen," he nodded, swallowing heavily as he took what just looked like a flat, thin grater with a handle, wondering why Vicki couldn't have just written that in her notes.

"And don't you forget it," Tess grinned, waving to him as she headed towards the door. "Now, I need to go have a long talk with my boyfriend about ogling strange girls' maracas..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Texts used in this drabble:**
> 
> **1.** _Why are there maracas in the dishwasher?_
> 
>  **2.** _The last thing I remember is ordering pitchers of White Russians_
> 
>  **3.** _We decided that the paper cups disintegrating was God's way of telling us we had had enough._
> 
>  **4.** _How is it that I keep meeting up with you when I'm drunk?  
>  You stand on my porch screaming my name until I come out with you..._


End file.
